


The Third Man

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:23:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Japan 1946. A country with a storied past, a troubled present, and an all too uncertain future. One man returns to a home he doesn't recognize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the movie The Third Man. The original movie was set in post World War II Vienna, but this story is set in post WWII Japan. It makes mention of the war and its aftermath as well as the Japanese internment camps in the United States. If not otherwise noted, the main storyline takes place in February 1946. The movie is all about the choices that people make and what consequences they have. It's also a story about friendship.

1946

Yokohama in 1946 was not the Yokohama he remembered leaving in 1933.

As he made his way down the gangplank, American soldiers jostled him aside. They laughed, and he could understand more than they probably imagined. His father's money had gotten him from the coast to Hawaii, and his editor's had gotten him the rest of the way. Thirteen years and a long, awful war, and Sakurai Sho wasn't sure if this was home or if it ever had been.

The American ship had been cramped and full of troops on their way to occupy the land where Sho was born. Money bought Sho a spot in the underbelly of the ship, far from crew quarters, and he was grateful to no longer be sandwiched between crates of food and supplies. He thought that breathing Japanese air again would have been sweeter than anything, welcoming even. He found it distasteful as the salt of Tokyo Bay mingled with the smell of ruin.

He gripped his suitcase tighter. His editor would like that line, he thought bitterly. The docks were swarming with soldiers in crisp uniforms. They stopped him and asked for his papers five times before he got to the train station. It could be worse, he realized. They could stop him and not let him go.

He'd been in America since he was sixteen, when his father's company sent them to Los Angeles. When the family left Yokohama, it had been on a luxury liner. Sho had not known hardship. They'd gone from a fine home in central Tokyo to a fine home in the hills, not far from the movie stars. He'd attended good schools and a reputable American university. He'd started writing fiction then, though his father had found a way to get him in with the Los Angeles Times. A member of the Sakurai family had to make an honest living, his father had argued. He'd even pondered citizenship.

Then 1941 had ended.

"Which way are you going?"

Sho nearly barreled over the frail man, almost apologizing in English out of habit. He caught himself though, inclining his head in an almost unfamiliar way. America didn't bow to anyone. "I'm very sorry."

"You come from an American ship? You one of them? You a soldier?"

He shook his head, seeing the train station entrance only steps away. "No. I'm Japanese. I was away."

"Away?" The old man smiled, and half his teeth were gone, only darkened gums remaining. "Whatever you say, boy. I've got a taxi. You need a taxi? I'll bring you anywhere you want to go." The man gestured over his shoulder to an old black sedan, motor sputtering.

"My destination is Tokyo," he said as businessmen, soldiers, women holding screaming babies walked around them. Why the hell had he agreed to come back? "I'm very sorry."

"You were on an American ship," the taxi driver accused him, voice taking on a darker tone. "You were away, huh?"

Sho felt the accusation like a knife at his throat. "I'm very sorry, please excuse me."

He walked away, heart beating faster. You're not welcome here, the old man had implied. You're with the Americans, with the people who have won. I'm not with them, Sho wanted to say as he used the only Japanese money he had with him to buy a train ticket north to Tokyo.

I'm not with them, Sho thought. They didn't want me either.

\--

1933

"I don't think I'm going to high school."

Sho turned, watching his friend stare out across the river. "Why the hell not?" Sho asked him. "Do you hate school that much?"

His friend just laughed, scratching the side of his face. "It's not about love or hate when it comes to school, Sho-chan. It's about necessity."

Sho frowned. "I don't get you."

"I don't have to go to high school if I don't want to. It's not like I'd get into a school that could get me to Koshien. There's work. I think I'll find work. My grandfather's not going to leave the business to my mother or anything. My sister's getting married. Who else is going to do it?"

He shook his head. "But education is important."

"It's important for people like you, Sho-chan. People like me? We just need to get by."

"Nino..."

His friend punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder if you understand how the world really works. At least for people who aren't like you."

"Like me?"

Nino got up, kicking up a bit of dirt from the riverbank as he reached for his baseball bat. Sho wanted him to stay. He hadn't been able to tell Nino yet: about his father's transfer, about America, about everything that was going to change. He wanted to tell Nino everything.

"I better get home. My mom's making miso soup and rice. What is your family having?" Nino asked pointedly, though not unkindly.

Sho said nothing. His family was having a lot more than miso and rice.

Nino deliberately dragged the bat across the grass, poking Sho in the back with it. He knew it was going to leave a stain on the back of Sho's uniform jacket. Of course, the family had hired help to get it clean in time for school the following day.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Nino headed back up the bank incline, finding the footpath that took him west to his own neighborhood. The houses there were closely packed together and small. They didn't have lawns and gardens like Sho's did. It didn't make Sho think any less of Nino. He sat a while longer, watching a few small fishing boats head down the river.

\--

The train from Yokohama to Tokyo only ran a few times a day. Parts of the track had been destroyed during all the last air raids, so it was slow going over the sections that remained. The view was pockmarked. As the train lurched along, he saw a row of buildings in perfect condition. But they ended abruptly, starting a new row of nothing but rubble. Heaps of concrete that hadn't been cleared away. Downed power lines, the wooden poles blown over or burnt from American bombs. He didn't want to think of the people that might yet lay undiscovered beneath them.

It was a crowded train, and he was seated beside a young man about his brother's age, just about starting high school. The young man's left leg was a shoddy wooden replacement, and Sho directed his attention to his lap instead. Whether he looked out the train window or beside him, Japan was defeated, and it made Sho's stomach turn. He was almost glad his father was back in Los Angeles. Sho was fairly certain the views would give the old man a heart attack.

As soon as he'd returned from Manzanar, Sho's editor at the Times had been keen on the idea. "We only get to see what MacArthur wants us to see about what's going on over there," his editor had said. Japan, the all too recent enemy, had been reduced to nothing more than "over there" now. Then again, Sho had been surprised to still have a job waiting for him.

Sho had only been back in Los Angeles for a few months. But now he had an assignment, and even with three years away from the typewriter, he hadn't really lost interest in reporting. He was to be the Times' eyes and ears in Tokyo, documenting the occupation for the next few weeks or until the money wired over ran out, whichever happened first. Who better to send than someone who had grown up "over there," was still a citizen, and still spoke the language?

There'd been no apology, no mention of his lost three years. He'd been given a friendly American pat on the back and the necessary papers. But now that he was in Japan, he wondered just how qualified he was to write about what he was seeing.

Instead of worrying about his assignment any further, he pulled the letter out from his jacket pocket, unfolding the neat creases to see the tiny handwriting. He almost hadn't expected to get a reply. After all, it had been more than ten years without any contact, and he hadn't known if the address would still have been current. Or still in existence with the way Tokyo had been bombed.

It was asking a lot, too. He scanned the words, imagining the small hand he remembered scratching them onto the paper.

 _"...would have thought you would be the President of America by now. A newspaper reporter? You'll have to tell me what your father thought of that career path. I hope he and your family remain alive and well. As for my recommendations on where to stay, I insist that you stay with me. I have a spare room so you can take all the money your American employer sends and use it to buy whatever you'd like at my bar. I own a bar now. See, those of us without a high school education can still make it pretty far in the world._

 _I've enclosed my current address, as my sister and her husband are the only ones still living at this one. I'm living in Kagurazaka now. It's been a long thirteen years, I think you'll see. Receiving letters is a tricky business, but if you let me know your expected arrival date, I'll ensure that I am ready to receive you. I may even treat you to your first drink at my establishment. (Don't get your hopes up.)_

 _I look forward to seeing you again._

 _Ninomiya Kazunari"_

He had nothing but suffering and the occupation of a defeated people, his people, to document. At the very least, maybe staying with an old friend would ease the burden of his assignment. Sho had to admit that the thought of Nino owning and operating a bar wasn't what he expected, but what right did he have to put expectations on Nino in the first place? When they'd parted, Nino had only been fourteen.

He got off the train at Iidabashi Station and found a taxi cab with a driver who couldn't know that he'd just arrived from the United States. One less person to pass judgment on him that day. "I need to get to Bar Ryusei," he said, handing the scrawled Nino directions to the man.

"Yes, sir."

\--

1943

In their barracks, the Sakurai family was not well-liked. As far as Sho understood, the majority of those living at Manzanar were American citizens whose families had immigrated to the United States a few decades earlier. Unlike Sho and his family, many of them had been born in America and considered themselves as American as John and Jane Smith in the house next door, even if their last name was Yamada or Ito. If anything, it was the Sakurai family who should have been locked up. It was the Sakurai family who was probably still loyal to the Emperor and to the Rising Sun.

Even with their arrival in Los Angeles a decade earlier, Sho's father behaved as though he was merely a Japanese in exile, serving his company and his country in a foreign land. His father had made little effort to adjust to American life, and Sho, with his refusal to attend a Japanese university or seek employment back home, was nothing but a disappointment and a disgrace, especially of a first son and heir.

But no matter what efforts Sho had made to be as American as John Smith next door, he, his parents, his brother and sister, and thousands of other Yamadas and Itos on the west coast had been shipped off to places like Manzanar. No matter how much money his father had, it hadn't been enough. Even with war looming, the family hadn't returned to Japan. It seemed that his father preferred martyrdom.

The family of five lived together in a room the size of their dining room back at the Los Angeles house, separated from their new neighbors with cloth strung on wire to give the illusion rather than the guarantee of privacy. The four bathrooms they'd been used to had been reduced to latrines without partitions.

But his father remained the head of the family, sitting with his newspaper as proudly as he could with the curtain drawn. Of course, the newspaper was usually a few weeks old and in English, which he could only halfway understand even after ten years. He refused to read the newspaper the camp residents put out, even though Sho had authored a good share of the articles.

"U.S. Steel is up, as expected," his father remarked one morning, perusing a month old stock table. As though he was about to leave for the office as he always had.

"I'm getting breakfast," Sho remarked, brushing dust off of his clothes as he left.

Dust was everywhere - Manzanar was in the middle of nowhere, a nowhere covered in blowing dirt. He shuffled along in the breakfast line, waiting for his morning rations outside the mess hall. He stood behind a farmer who had lost everything. He stood in front of a schoolteacher who had probably led the Pledge of Allegiance every morning with a bit more pride than she did behind barbed wire.

He'd left Japan at sixteen to call America his new home, but he'd always intended to go back at some point. It was times like these, standing out in the meal line and covering his face with a cloth to avoid the dust, that he thought of Tokyo and the friends he'd had there. Would it be any better back home?

\--

According to the address from Nino and the driver's estimates, Bar Ryusei was just down this street, although the way was blocked. A condemned building had recently been imploded by a municipal works team, but there hadn't been enough money to clear the debris away yet. Sho waved off the driver's offer to try and get him there another way. This was the real Tokyo now, and Sho wanted to experience it firsthand.

He paid with his remaining American money, which the driver had no problem taking even though Sho apologized. He carefully walked around the hastily roped off concrete mess, searching for the sign for Bar Ryusei. His family had lived in a different part of Tokyo, and of course it had been several years ago, but Sho couldn't help but notice how quiet the neighborhood was.

There were people in the streets since it was still light out, but there was simply a difference in the way people conducted themselves than Sho remembered. People darted in and out of buildings, kept to the edges of the sidewalk, looked at their feet. It hadn't yet been half a year since the surrender. Everyone was keeping to themselves and doing their best to avoid attention. He recognized the same fear and confusion from his three years in Manzanar.

Bar Ryusei was tucked between a tailor's shop and an out of business dry goods store. It was a modern two-story brick building with a relatively plain facade. This part of Kagurazaka had largely escaped bombing, and despite the imploded building down the block and an out of luck neighbor, Bar Ryusei appeared to be operational. The windows were fairly new and scrubbed clean with the bar's name imprinted in simple lettering. He didn't really know the Nino now, but the Nino back then hadn't really been much for fancy, showy things. At least not for himself. It was a simple, straightforward neighborhood drinking spot.

It was late afternoon, but there were no lights on inside, and the door was locked. Sho knocked and waited patiently, but there was no answer even after ten minutes. He frowned, checking the address one last time. He couldn't imagine there being more than one Bar Ryusei in Kagurazaka. Maybe Nino hadn't received his letter with his arrival date? The tailor was closing up shop for the day, and Sho left his suitcase at the bar entrance and waved down the man.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you knew the hours for Bar Ryusei here?" he asked, almost thankful his father had insisted on using Japanese and only Japanese at home. He hadn't forgotten his native tongue, even after so many years abroad.

The tailor was startled, almost dropping the keys to his door. "Oh goodness, you haven't heard? You're not one of the regulars?"

Sho felt a chill run down his spine at the man's words. "I'm afraid I'm new to the area. My friend is the master here, Ninomiya Kazunari-san? I'll be staying with him while I'm in town."

The tailor looked around, as though he was looking for someone else to relay the information he was holding. He twisted his watch around his wrist nervously. "Ninomiya-san...oh dear, you really haven't been told..."

"No, I've only just arrived today." Was Bar Ryusei shut down? Was Nino sick?

The tailor looked down the street before hurrying to Sho's side and grabbing hold of his coat sleeve. "Ninomiya-san...it only just happened, right here in front of the store."

Sho had been so distracted with finding the bar and avoiding the rubble behind him that he hadn't seen the heavy, black tire marks in the middle of the road, as though a vehicle had come to a sudden stop. He felt suddenly lightheaded.

The tailor tightened his grip on Sho's arm. "It was a truck, coming to haul things away from the dry goods store I believe. I was in my shop, of course. In the back, I mean to say. It was all over when I came out. I....I..."

"Sir, please..."

"Ninomiya-san was killed, right here. Not even five days ago."

\--

1933

"I saw it. With my own two eyes, I saw it," Nino insisted as he dragged Sho through the shopping district, past carts nearly overflowing with fruits and vegetables. The streets and passages here were narrow, almost like a maze, but Nino knew it like the back of his hand.

"Slow down," Sho protested, trying to tuck his bookbag tightly against his side before he knocked anything over. "What's the big hurry?"

"Well, when it comes to these things you can't trust anybody else. Something like this is bound to go fast. We have to get to it before it's gone."

They passed a butcher shop, breaking through a line of bored housewives. Nino didn't even look back, and Sho threw half a dozen apologies back over his shoulder. "Nino, this can't be that interesting."

"Says you," Nino declared. He suddenly skidded to a halt, and Sho nearly ran into him. "This way."

They continued down an alleyway, and Sho wrinkled his nose at the smell of garbage and food waste from the various residents of the neighborhood. He wasn't sure why he was humoring Nino. After all, he was supposed to start packing up his books and his room. The family was leaving at the end of the month, and his father wanted everything ready to be shipped across the ocean to their new house sooner rather than later.

Then again, he didn't know how many more opportunities he'd have to follow Nino on another one of his schemes. If Nino was taking the news about Sho moving hard, he wasn't showing it. He'd only nodded and said "if that's your father's job, then that's what you have to do." It hadn't even come up in conversation between them again, even with the move coming up so soon.

Finally, Nino dragged him down an even narrower passageway, crouching down beside a pile of ragged cloth discarded from a kimono shop. Sho hunkered down beside him. "Alright, what am I looking at here?"

Nino shoved aside a few bits of fabric, revealing a torn, yellowed magazine. He picked it up gingerly as though it was something precious. He opened the first page to reveal a cartoon of a voluptuous naked woman with large breasts. Sho's eyes widened.

"Told you it was worth it." Nino flipped through a few more pages, revealing a few more drawings of women in various states of undress. "But it's mine, I found it, so you can look but not touch."

Sho didn't feel all that jealous of Nino's cartoon pornography. "What are you going to do with it?"

Nino shrugged, opening his bag and sliding the magazine inside. "Don't know. Maybe I'll sell it."

"You didn't draw it."

"That's not the point," Nino explained, as though Sho was a moron. He had a look in his eyes that Sho had seen before, but had never really understood. It was an old look, as though Nino had lived far longer than his fourteen years. "Pornography has value. Everything has a value, everything has a price."

\--

The tailor, Tanaka, hadn't had too many details to offer. He hadn't known Nino well enough to have asked about the arrangements, only overhearing bits and pieces from neighbors. The funeral was being held that day, though Tanaka suspected it might have already ended. Sho could only stand there, dumbfounded, listening to the man apologize.

"Think there was a family plot in Aoyama. Shimura-san's wife told me something like that. I don't know much else. Bar's had police in and out a few times, but otherwise I can't say. I'm very sorry about your friend."

Sho couldn't believe it. He'd only gotten the letter back from Nino two weeks prior. He'd made his final travel preparations, and now Nino was dead? He was just so tired from the long journey at sea, from the trip from Yokohama, that he wasn't sure if he was hearing the tailor correctly. Maybe he had the wrong address after all. Maybe there was another Ninomiya in Kagurazaka who'd been run down by an out of control truck.

"You said Aoyama Cemetery?"

The tailor nodded. "It's a big park, I mean, I don't know where they might have..."

Sho nodded. "Aoyama, I know where it is." He walked back with heavy steps to the entrance of Bar Ryusei, hoisting his suitcase.

"You do? Are you from Tokyo?"

He ignored the man's question and looked down the street at the debris from the destroyed building. "That way's south?"

"Yes." Tanaka grabbed hold of his arm. "Wait, it'll be dark soon. You're not walking there? That'll take you an hour!"

He slipped out of the man's grasp, adjusting the brim of his hat. "Thank you for letting me know."

The man called after him for a while, but he was eventually out of earshot as Sho made his way south. His feet hurt, he was sore all over, but the tailor had said Aoyama. Nino's family had a plot in Aoyama. It wasn't as cold in winter here as it could get at Manzanar, and he had a far better coat now. Tanaka was right - it would be dark soon, but he wasn't going to sit on the stoop at Bar Ryusei like a stray cat, not without seeing it for himself.

Once he left Nino's neighborhood, it didn't get much louder. The occasional car sped around, but the streets were largely empty. Entire city blocks were roped off, waiting for someone to clear away debris and make the area livable again. Who knew how much destruction lay beyond that, where Sho couldn't see from ground level? He'd only read about the bombings in Tokyo through the press. Seeing the devastation first hand was another thing entirely. He was just glad his editor hadn't thought it a good idea to send him south to the cities that had seen the atomic bomb.

The more he walked and the more of Tokyo he took in, the less he wanted to think about Nino living here. Of course, he only remembered fourteen year old Nino who played baseball, was too embarrassed to join Sho's family on a holiday, and always said what he was thinking. Nino was twenty-seven now and a businessman. Had Nino fought for the Japanese? What had it been like to see Tokyo under the siege of bombs? What had it been like to hear the Emperor's voice over the radio, announcing the surrender?

The cemetery gates were still open when Sho arrived, suitcase in hand. He'd spent the entire journey across the Pacific hoping to get that drink Nino had promised. Now he was steps away from the final resting places of several generations. Graves of marble and stone were tightly packed on either side of the path. How had Nino's family been able to afford a family plot here? A lot had changed since he'd been gone.

He came to a halt under leafless trees, branches burdened with a thin layer of ice that was beginning to melt. Two policemen were coming down the path, heading Sho's way. One was tall with long limbs, the other was short with a long knitted scarf bundled around his neck. They noticed Sho immediately, and the taller officer was the first to speak.

"Cemetery gates are closing in half an hour. Can we direct you to your hotel? Are you lost?" he asked, the most kindness Sho had heard all day, maybe the most in three years.

He probably did look rather strange wandering through a cemetery at sunset with a suitcase in tow. The other officer said nothing, merely looking at him curiously. Sho looked from one officer to the other. "I'm staying in town, but I was supposed to be lodging with a friend. But they said he died, had his ashes interred here just today."

The officers exchanged a look. The taller one seemed to be waiting for the other man to say something - maybe the shorter fellow was the superior. Sho shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Are you looking for Ninomiya?" the shorter officer asked suddenly, startling Sho.

He nodded. "Yes. Yes, that's my friend. Ninomiya Kazunari. He hasn't really been killed, has he?"

The two officers exchanged another look. This time the taller one spoke again, his breaths visible in the waning light. "Why don't you come with us?"

\--

1942

The hired help were running from room to room in a daze as Sho came home, setting down his briefcase and suitcases in the hall. He still thought of the house in the Hollywood Hills as home, even though he'd finally gotten a small, modest place of his own closer to the Times' offices downtown. It appeared that his change of address hadn't been registered or there'd been some sort of mix-up.

His sister was all dolled up, standing at the top of the spiral stairs in the hall looking forlorn. "Sho, you're home."

"Mai," he acknowledged her, watching the chaos unfolding as one of the maids hurried past him with her arms full of the family's fine china. "You're going dressed like that?"

Her fingers drummed the bannister as her heeled shoes clicked on each step on the way down to greet him. "If they think I'm a spy, let them think I'm a beautiful, exotic spy they're locking away."

He sighed, smelling the perfume wafting off of her. "We're going on a train, you know. You're going to suffocate us all. Unless that was your dastardly plan, given to you by the Emperor himself to snuff us out."

Mai leaned forward, gripping his wrist. "Don't joke. Papa's home. He'll hear you."

"Let him hear me," he said, shaking her off and heading for the stairs. "Is mother upstairs?"

"She's at the bank," Mai related. "Putting all the jewelry in a safe deposit box."

One of the maids passed him on the steps, arms loaded with some of the first-edition books his parents kept on the shelves in their bedroom. Most of the furniture had already been sold off, the money put in the bank to allow them to start again whenever this foolish evacuation ended.

"All Japanese persons, both alien and non-alien, will be evacuated..." the notices said. The preparations were near completion. Sho was still listed as a member of his father's household, and the five of them would go together. He hadn't been on friendly terms with his father in some time, but it didn't much matter. They were stuck now.

"Sho!" Mai called as soon as he reached the top of the staircase. He looked over, and despite her makeup and form-fitting dress and curled hair, she was still his younger sister. And she was scared.

"What is it?" he asked, gentler than before.

"It's going to be alright, isn't it? It's just a temporary relocation?"

Sho had still been in the newsroom when word of the Executive Order came over the wire. He gave his sister what he thought was his most convincing smile. "Of course. I'm sure it will all be over soon."

\--

Instead of taking Sho to the Ninomiya family grave, the officers ushered him to the local police station and let him sit for a while in one of the interrogation rooms for privacy. The taller officer, Aiba, brought him a hot cup of tea.

"Wait," Sho said as Aiba turned to leave. "You don't have to leave me alone."

Aiba looked slightly uncomfortable, but he sat down. It seemed as though Nino's funeral had been the event of the day, at least in this area of Tokyo. Aiba and his superior, Ohno in the scarf, had been asked to keep an eye on the proceedings. Grave looting had been a worry for a while, especially with wealthier graves. Ornamentation and decorative accents on gravestones had been stolen and melted down or sold on the black market. Everyone was looking for a way to make money since the war machine was no longer mobilized. It seemed that funerals were a good distraction for the criminals.

"Luckily it was a very quiet affair today. We didn't see anyone suspicious," Aiba related to him. He scratched his neck. "I am sorry though. I mean, you came all this way to reunite with your friend and he's..."

Sho nodded. There was no mistake. Ninomiya Kazunari, the owner of Bar Ryusei in Kagurazaka, had been struck and killed. It was almost too hard to believe. He and Nino had been close as kids, but after Sho had moved, he'd neglected to write. He'd been too concerned with his own life and his own advancement. He'd all but abandoned his friendship with Nino, forging ahead and trying to Americanize himself.

"Ohno-san checked our records, and our department did a cursory examination of Ninomiya's establishment. You know, looking for a will, any personal effects to go to the family." Aiba still looked uncomfortable, taking out a small envelope and sliding it across the table. "One of Ninomiya-san's waitresses said he was expecting a guest from America. He had a separate key made for the apartment above the bar. He was living there, and I guess you were to stay there too?"

Sho opened the envelope, taking the cool metal key from within. He ran his fingertip over each little jagged edge. Nino hadn't seen or heard from him in over a dozen years, and yet he was willing to let Sho stay with him, free of charge. Sho couldn't even thank him now. His fist closed around the key, and he shut his eyes, saying a silent prayer for his friend.

Aiba cleared his throat a few moments later. "How long will you be staying in Tokyo, Sakurai-san? I mean, we checked and we couldn't find a will for your friend. We're not sure how ownership of his bar will transfer, but if you have no other place to stay..."

It would feel strange staying in Nino's place, surrounded by all the things Nino had acquired in all the years they'd been separated. It would be like staying in a stranger's home, made all the more uncomfortable because said stranger was deceased. But he'd spent his last few coins, both Japanese and American, on his transportation. He had no other place to go since he'd counted on Nino to put him up.

"I'm a newspaper reporter with the Los Angeles Times. I'm here on assignment. I was planning to stay with Ninomiya-san until they called me back."

Aiba nodded. "Well, I can recommend places in the area where you could stay instead. I'm sure Ninomiya-san's lawyer or business partners will be in and out of there, and they might not have been aware of your arrangement and may not honor it."

Sho nodded. "I appreciate that, thank you."

Aiba stood, fumbling with the buttons on his uniform jacket to avoid looking Sho straight on. "I'm on the night beat up near Waseda, so I can give you a lift back to Kagurazaka."

Sho finished the weak tea, realizing it was the only thing he'd had all day aside from a cup of coffee on the Yokohama train. He stood, retrieving his bag, and followed Aiba from the room. The squad room was half empty, and Sho had a suspicion that there weren't really enough policemen available. Not everyone had come back from the war.

They passed by Aiba's superior's desk, and Ohno stood, looking solemn. "If there's anything you require while you're here in Tokyo, Sakurai-san, don't hesitate to call." He handed back Sho's papers. "Had to call the occupation administration office. I'm sorry. Just needed to verify your reason for being here."

Sho nodded, taking back his travel documents and sliding them into his bag. "That's not a problem."

"How well did you know Ninomiya-san?" Ohno asked, expression unchanged. It was an odd question, Sho thought, and why did he owe him an answer? Why did the police care what his relationship had been like with Nino? It hadn't been asked in Aiba's concerned tone - it was asked with something else behind it. As if Nino had done something wrong.

"He was my friend," Sho explained anyhow, not wishing to quarrel after all they'd done to help him. "My childhood friend. I haven't...I hadn't seen him since I was sixteen."

Ohno sat back down, reaching for another file folder full of paperwork. "I see. Very sorry for your loss. I hope you're able to accomplish what you set out to do here."

Aiba jingled his car keys a bit, getting Sho's attention. "Come on, I'm sure you want to get settled. It's been a long day."

The officer said little as he weaved the car through the streets, occasionally smacking the malfunctioning heater as they headed back to Kagurazaka. He came through a different way, approaching Bar Ryusei from the north to avoid the destroyed building.

Aiba pulled over to the curb, putting the car in park. Sho had his fingers around the door handle when the officer stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "Sakurai-san, you're a newspaper man?"

"Yes?"

Aiba looked slightly embarrassed, even in the relative darkness. "Ohno-san didn't know how to ask, since he, you know, had to run your papers. It's just that information can be hard to come by now. And since you're from the United States, you might have a perspective we don't get here, aside from dealing with the occupation forces..."

Sho looked out at the darkened street, at how lonely Bar Ryusei looked. "I'm not sure what kind of information you're talking about. I'm not a spy, and for the record, I don't even know much myself. I was..." He wasn't sure Aiba needed to know about Manzanar. Sho didn't need to give the officer his entire life story.

Aiba let him go. "I understand, I'm really sorry. I didn't ask to try and trick you. It's just that Ohno-san, some of the other officers, well, we have to do what the American government dictates now. I guess you could say we're nothing more than tools for them. No offense, since you've been over there..."

"None taken," Sho said immediately. He had no great love for America after three years locked away.

The officer nodded. "Well, we're having a meeting in a week or so. Some police, some local folks. Concerned folks. Um, it's not exactly common knowledge, but we'd love for you to come speak with us. The meetings are pretty informal."

Sho considered it. Having allies on the police force would possibly make his time in Japan go smoother, especially if he needed access to places to help him write articles. It wouldn't do to snub the police now. "Sure," he said slowly. "I'd be happy to attend. I could interview you, if you'd agree to that?"

"You mean people in America could read about me? About Officer Aiba Masaki, Tokyo Police?" The man's earlier embarrassment seemed to vanish at the thought of some small amount of fame. "Oh, do come, Sakurai-san! We'd be thrilled to have you. It would be so interesting to get another perspective."

He finally opened the door, retrieving his suitcase from the back seat. "Well, you know where I'll be," he said, gesturing behind him to the bar. "Second floor."

Aiba nodded, taking the car back out of park. "You take care now. And if you notice anything suspicious in the neighborhood, please let us know. We're doing our best to cut down on vice, black market business, that sort of thing."

"Of course."

"Have a good night."

Sho watched the car's red tail lights disappear, leaving him completely alone. He could see candlelight in a few windows around the block, electric ones behind some curtains, but none whatsoever on at Bar Ryusei. What had happened with Nino had yet to truly sink in, and Sho was about to fall asleep standing up.

He took the key Nino had specially made for him. It didn't fit the bar's front entrance, and there was no gangway between the tailor's or the empty dry goods store. Aiba hadn't thought of that. But no matter, Sho thought, walking back down the block and around, finding a narrow alleyway behind the buildings. It was rather overgrown with weeds peeking through the sidewalk cement, mostly shriveled and dead from the winter chill.

There was a cement block wall extending all the way down, interrupted only by rusted metal gates for each building. The one for Bar Ryusei was worn, but not in terrible condition. It creaked only a little as Sho pushed it open, closing it again behind him. There was a small yard behind the building, no grass. Only more concrete, the same as the shops on either side. It was merely an alternate entrance for owners and employees.

The back door opened instantly with the key, leading to a rather steep wooden staircase and a ground floor path that most likely led to storage rooms and the bar's rear entrance. The steps creaked as Sho trudged up them, gripping the hand rail. Moonlight poured through the windows as Sho made it upstairs to a well-furnished sitting room, and he flipped the switch on the wall at the top of the stairs. Nino's electricity was paid for.

Despite the humble entrance and steep staircase, Nino was living well. Very well. He slipped off his shoes, leaving them at the top step. The main room had a plush sofa and loveseat with a glass coffee table. Papers were strewn here and there, most likely from the police rummaging. It had a very Western feel overall. Bookcases and even a grandfather clock that was still keeping good time lined the walls. There was a small kitchen beyond, and a hallway running along the northern wall.

Three doors to the hall. The first was a washroom with a toilet and tub, again Western style. The next door was a bedroom with an unmade bed and a rather expensive looking armoire. The baseball bat mounted on a wall rack was the best indication that this had been Nino's room. He shut the door almost silently, wishing he hadn't disturbed it in the first place. The final room had to be his guest room.

This room alone had a Japanese feel. Unlike the wood floors and rugs in the other rooms, this room had tatami mats from wall to wall, a simple dresser, and a low table. He set down his bag and slid open the cabinets to find clean bedding. Of course the futon hadn't been set up and waiting for him. Nino had been killed before he'd gotten a chance, Sho thought darkly.

He didn't bother taking out pajamas from his suitcase, stripping down to his underwear and slipping into the futon. He was asleep within minutes of his head touching the pillow.

He only awoke when the bedroom door opened hours later, revealing a man's shadow in the hall.

"You must be Sakurai-san."


	2. Chapter 2

1932

"Not even once?" Nino asked him, aghast.

Sho walked a little faster, picking up the pace to try and get home quicker. To get inside and away from Nino's invasive questioning. "Not even once."

"You're older than me, Sho-chan. That's kind of embarrassing." Nino caught up with him easily, poking him in the side as they went along.

What was the hurry, Sho wondered. None of the girls in his classes at school were all that interesting. And he certainly didn't think it proper to pursue one of them without future intentions. But Nino wasn't much for propriety or doing things in the expected way.

He went on to detail his first kiss with a second year high school student. He'd been 12. Nino was a self-proclaimed "lady killer," and he'd seen her relaxing under a tree in a park near his house. He'd walked up boldly and announced that she was pretty. The girl got to her feet, picked up her bookbag, and kissed him gently on the mouth. Sho had little inclination to believe this story of Nino's, since he did like to slyly tease or outright lie.

But what did it matter? Nino had a dozen stories of kisses and a few about a little bit more than kissing. Sho blushed as Nino recounted the girl who had put her hand in his trousers to touch him just the other day. He was still in junior high school!

"Are you embarrassed?" Nino teased. "Or are you just jealous that I'm well on my way to adulthood, and you haven't even kissed a girl yet?"

Sho shook his head. "I don't need to kiss girls or grope girls or let them put their hands in my pants to be an adult. And besides, I'm not so sure I'd want anything serious with a girl who would so readily let herself be kissed and touched by someone she hardly knows."

"Whatever you say, Sho-chan." Nino was quiet for a few moments. "What about a boy?"

"Shut up."

Nino wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I see. I see. You can tell me anything, you know. I won't hate you. I can't hate you. You're my friend, no matter what. You're my friend even if you don't kiss girls. You're my friend if you want to kiss boys."

Sho felt shame from his head to the tip of his toes. Not kissing girls didn't imply that he was weird and a pervert. "I didn't say I wanted to kiss boys. I don't want to kiss anybody!"

"So then why don't you become a monk?" Nino asked, easing off. "They don't kiss anybody. Well, maybe statues of Buddha, I don't know what monks do, really. You'd look terrible without hair though."

He gave Nino a shove. Sho was pretty damn sure he wasn't interested in anyone. "You're a pest sometimes, Ninomiya."

"True," he said, running ahead and turning back to stick out his tongue at Sho. "I may be a pest, but at least I don't want to kiss boys!"

Sho's hands became fists. "Take it back!"

Nino laughed. "Come over here and make me!"

Sho chased Nino the rest of the way home, forgetting exactly why he was furious by the time he reached the front gate of the house.

\--

Sho instinctively pulled his blankets up, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Who was this stranger, and how did he know his name? He was vulnerable, in his shorts and in a home that didn't belong to him.

The man turned, looking back down the hallway rather than at Sho. "Nino said you were coming. You'll forgive me if I forgot your arrival was today."

Sho remained on the floor, unmoving. The 'Nino' moniker had stuck with his friend into adulthood. Or perhaps Nino had insisted upon its following him all these years. His eyes were fairly adjusted to the dark, even having been suddenly woken. The other man had put on the lights down the hallway, so his silhouette was visible. He was fairly average in height, perhaps a little taller than Sho himself, with long limbs and fairly broad shoulders.

"Come on, I'll make some tea," the man said, padding back down the hallway and closing the door part of the way to give Sho a measure of privacy once more.

He didn't want to move, didn't want to know. Nino was dead, and Sho thought he'd be left to deal with it alone. With the grief and the uncertainty. But no, now he was expected to have late night (early morning?) tea with a stranger. A stranger who also had a key to the apartment above Bar Ryusei.

Not keen on putting on the same clothes he'd worn the previous day, he finally opened up his suitcase and rummaged for something casual enough to wear. His new friend could wait for him to change at least. Content with his change of clothes, Sho left the warmth of the futon behind and headed down the hallway. It seemed that the other fellow had started the tea before waking him, and he was already pouring out the drink into a few porcelain cups.

Sho felt rather self-conscious, trying to smooth his hair down into a more presentable state since he'd been tossing and turning. His shirt needed ironing, too. The other man looked tired, almost as exhausted as Sho still felt after his long voyage across the ocean. He had sharp features, large eyes behind glasses with round frames, and long fingers as he held out the cup and saucer for Sho to take.

"Thank you," Sho muttered, accepting it and sitting down on the loveseat.

"I am sorry for waking you so suddenly," the man apologized. "I just...well, you were sleeping in my room."

Sho was mortified. He'd never considered the idea that Nino had a housemate, even though it was fairly logical. It was a better explanation for the fine furniture and other decor - the combined collection of two people rather than just one. "I apologize. I've only just arrived..."

"I know," the man said, sipping his tea calmly. "I saw the unfamiliar shoes when I came in. They weren't there before."

Sho let the tea cool a bit more, setting the saucer and cup down on the coffee table. "I'm sorry," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just..."

"Nino." The man stared across the room at nothing in particular, frowning. "Yes, it's all very shocking. Can't even venture a guess if it's more shocking for me, having lived with him, or for you, who didn't even get to see him."

Sho didn't know what to say. He didn't know this man, didn't know what the hell he was going to do. Now he didn't even know where he was welcome to sleep. The other man slid off his glasses, holding them loosely in his free hand as he finished his cup of tea.

"I've been rude," the man decided. "You've had an awful shock, and now I'm making you drink tea with me."

Sho shook his head. "I just don't normally drink tea at..." He glanced over at the grandfather clock. "4:00 in the morning."

The man's teacup clinked delicately back onto the saucer. "I'm Matsumoto. I'm sorry for not saying so. Matsumoto Jun. I've lived here with Nino for a few months now. And I drink a lot of tea at 4:00 in the morning." Sho watched Matsumoto lean back against the couch cushion, setting his glasses down at his side. "I work for a restaurant, we close late. By the time I return, Nino's usually closed up the bar and we..."

They returned to silence. Sho took his own cup back with shaky hands, none of the grace this Matsumoto seemed to possess. He couldn't help watching him, wondering what kind of person would live with someone like Nino. He also wondered what Nino had been like. It had been a long thirteen years - were Sho's Nino and Matsumoto's Nino the same person? What had changed? What had stayed the same?

Unlike Sho's rumpled clothes and messy hair, Matsumoto's clothes were clean and in good repair. His hair was cropped short and neatly trimmed. The only sign that Matsumoto worked for a restaurant now was in his hands, which looked a little rough and chapped, probably from washing dishes after the place closed.

How had he and Nino met? What had they talked about over tea at 4:00 AM?

"Sakurai-san?"

Matsumoto had obviously caught him staring, and Sho was too tired to try and mask his embarrassment this time. "I'm sorry."

"Nino was very fond of you," Matsumoto noted. "He was looking forward to your visit. He said you worked for a newspaper?"

Sho was grateful that Matsumoto had changed the subject. "Yes, I'm a reporter with the Los Angeles Times. I'm here to do some eyewitness reports."

"Japan in defeat," Matsumoto said bitterly.

Sho nodded. "In a way, yes. Let the folks across America know about the people they've beaten. To let them know why their taxes are paying for all the military here."

The other man grinned. "And what about you, Sakurai-san? Why are you here?"

"I just told you..."

"You just told me your assignment," the man said, reminding him very much of Nino with his probing questions so many years ago. He wondered if Nino and Matsumoto had gotten along or quarreled at every turn for sport. "I want to know why you're actually here."

Matsumoto got up, taking his empty cup and saucer when Sho didn't answer right away. He listened to the running water in the sink, pondering his answer while Matsumoto did the washing up. He was in Japan because it was work. He was in Japan to see Nino. Maybe he was in Japan to find out if he was at all welcome there, if he was welcome anywhere now.

The man emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands with a towel. "Go back to sleep. I'm sorry to have woken you."

Sho shook his head. "Not at all. But don't you want your room back? I mean, if it's your room..."

"I can manage with the sofa. I've slept in worse places," Matsumoto said, not bothering to elaborate. Sho nodded in gratitude, rising from the loveseat and hearing a few pops and cracks from his tired body.

Matsumoto followed him, retrieving a blanket and pillow from the cabinet. "You're absolutely sure?" Sho asked. "You're paying rent here, and I'm sure Nino would have just put me on the sofa..."

The man shook his head. "Nino would have insisted. And in his absence, I will respect his wishes."

In Nino's absence. Nino's permanent absence. Sho sat down on the futon, fully clothed in what he'd meant to wear the coming day. He didn't even hear Matsumoto close the door, and he sat there in his clothes for some time before laying down once more.

\--

1937

He was home on break from Stanford, and there was no way he was sitting through dinner at his father's house. One of his high school friends, one of the only people who'd welcomed him instead of making fun of his novice-level English, had invited him to some Hollywood club. They said Errol Flynn had picked up girls there before, so his friend Jim was fairly confident things would go well. Especially with Sho's "exotic good looks" - Jim's words, not Sho's.

But it was almost midnight, and Sho was sitting at the bar alone. One of the cigarette girls had caught Jim's eye an hour earlier, and his friend had disappeared with her. Which was just Sho's luck, since Jim had driven them here, and the overpriced cocktails had cost him all his cash. Not like Sho's English had improved enough to call his own cab and get home without being ripped off. Four years in America had mostly taught him grammatical structure and vocabulary enough to keep up in class. And curse words, plenty of those.

So he sulked, tapping the stem of his martini glass. The bartender walked past a few times, seemingly curious. Sho supposed there weren't too many people who looked like him around very often. He'd been excited to come back, see Jim, maybe see a Hollywood star. Anything to get away from the pile of books and essays to write.

He was tired of the bartender's looks so he left money on the bar top and wandered off into the crowd. His sister would strangle him if she knew where he was. Of course, Mai was only fifteen, and there was no way she could sneak out of the house. And her English study was progressing slower than Sho's, so she wouldn't be able to find her way over. Their little brother had picked up more than the two of them combined. Maybe Shu would have better luck hobnobbing with the Hollywood crowd. The thought of his seven year old brother talking to some blonde in high heels made him chuckle, although the cocktails helped.

Sho made his way out of the club and out into the alley. Where the hell had Jim gone? He fumbled around in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes, frowning. Jim had bummed his last one on the ride over. No smokes, no money to get home, and every glittering sign was in blurry English thanks to the cocktails. Forget Jim, Sho thought. He could walk. Once he found Hollywood Boulevard again he could probably find his way to Runyon Canyon Park. That would be a walk, he thought bitterly.

He was halfway home and fairly sober, exhausted as hell as he trampled through the park's gravel pathways with only moonlight to guide him. It was only when he stopped to check for cigarettes again that he noticed someone was following him. He was still out of cigarettes, of course, and he was realizing just how dumb an idea this had been. It could be some weirdo with a knife, could be someone wanting to rob him.

He started to walk again, but the person called out. "Wait!"

It was a command Sho knew, and since he wasn't sure if the guy would come up and stab him if he ran, he turned on his heel. The guy was a little smaller than Sho, maybe a few years older. It was hard to tell in the dark.

"You lookin' for something?" the man asked him. Sho thought it was a strange question since Sho was the one being followed.

"No..."

The man stepped closer, and Sho knew he needed to run. He'd get home smelling like the club and cigarettes, and his father would berate him for "being like a loose, showy American," but it was preferable to this strange little man.

"Got a pretty face for a Chinaman."

Sho took a step back. "I need to be going."

The man caught him by the arm, quicker than Sho could have imagined. "Don't have all night. Know why you're in this park. Same as me, right, friend?"

Same as him? Was there something Sho was missing? But it became clear right away when the man pressed himself against Sho, startling him. The man's breath smelled like hard liquor. "Come on, pretty face like you. I know why you're here," the man insisted.

Damn Jim and that cigarette girl. Damn himself for thinking this was the best route home. "Let me go," he asked, trying to shrug the man off.

The man was trying to reach into Sho's pants, getting bolder and bolder the more Sho protested. Sho wasn't an American citizen, and he sure didn't have the ability to explain to the police what the hell was happening. Like they'd believe him.

"Just need a little..."

Sho shoved the man away roughly. "Stop!"

"Fucking pansy," his attacker grumbled, spitting at the ground near Sho's feet. "Chinaman pansy!"

Sho ran, pulling his coat tightly around him as he hurried away. The man cursed and hollered after him, and Sho strayed from the path. Low-hanging branches struck his face, and he could feel tears stinging his eyes as sharply as the pain from the new scratches. Pansy, the man had called him. He knew that word.

He'd known for some time that he wasn't one to chase cigarette girls like Jim. Hell, maybe he'd known for a while that something was wrong with him. Something that made him just as nasty and disgusting as the man in the park. "Same as me, right, friend?" the pervert had accused him.

Sho was different. Sho was funny. He ran faster. Maybe if he kept running, he could escape it.

\--

Sho woke with a start, blinking away a bad dream. It was already slipping away as he remembered where he was. Not on board a ship, not in his apartment, not even at Manzanar. He was in Nino's apartment, and he had work to do. It was already after 10:00 AM.

Having made his clothes entirely unwearable by sleeping in them, he pulled out another shirt and pair of slacks. At least his tie was in decent shape, he thought as he got up. He walked out into the hallway slowly, hoping not to disturb Matsumoto as he carried his clothes and toiletry bag to the washroom. He could see the pillow propped against the arm of the sofa, so he knew the other man was still asleep.

The shower was mostly cold, but it felt kind of like a luxury. It was just him in the compartment with his soap and washcloth and his own thoughts. In Manzanar, he hadn't gotten the privilege of privacy, so every bath or shower now felt like some sort of gift. Cleanliness made him feel much better, and he brushed his teeth quickly and dressed. Matsumoto was sitting at the kitchen table when Sho emerged.

The man said nothing in greeting, drinking down a mug of coffee like his life depended on it. "Good morning," Sho said, seeing that Matsumoto had poured him one, too. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"You did," Matsumoto said, and Sho opened his mouth to apologize. Matsumoto held up a hand. "And don't worry about it. It was nice to hear someone else walking around." He frowned. "That sounded funny. It's just...I'm not used to being alone here yet..."

The thought of Nino was preoccupying them both. In Matsumoto's recent memories, and in Sho's distant ones. Sho sipped the coffee. It was actually quite good, considering how Tokyo was still mostly under rationing orders. "Were you at the service?"

"There wasn't one," Matsumoto replied. "Everything was private."

"Everything?" Sho asked. What about Nino's family? In his letter, he had mentioned his sister and her husband. Even if Matsumoto had only been living with Nino a few months, it wasn't out of the question for the man to be allowed to attend Nino's wake.

"You'd have to ask his friend Takahashi," Matsumoto said, looking suddenly less than composed. Sho could instantly tell that this Takahashi was no friend of his. "He handled all the arrangements. I was out when everything happened. I came home, saw the blood in the street.Takahashi was here saying Nino was gone. Killed. That he'd take care of it."

"Take care of it?"

Matsumoto got up, the chair scraping noisily against the floor. "That's all I know. They interred the ashes at Aoyama yesterday, but they never bothered to tell me where. Takahashi said he was in touch with the family, but I have my doubts."

Sho watched Matsumoto pour the rest of his coffee down the sink. "Why?"

Matsumoto just shook his head. "I'm sure he'll come around. You can just go ahead and ask him yourself, Sakurai-san."

Sho let the topic drop. Nino's friend Takahashi. Who was he? How was he involved with the owner of Bar Ryusei? Maybe it was none of his business. He'd been out of Nino's life so long. What right did he have to know details if even Nino's housemate had been kept in the dark?

"Working today?" Matsumoto asked, leaning against the sink. Every movement Matsumoto made seemed calculated, controlled. Even as he seemed to relax, his eyes were moving behind his glasses. Maybe he was still in shock about Nino and angry for having been excluded. Maybe he was angry with Sho for invading his space.

Sho nodded. "Suppose I should start earning the money they'll be wiring me. I don't want to leech off your hospitality too long."

Matsumoto shook his head. "Nino said you were going to stay until you were done. If that's what Nino said, then you'll stay here."

"But your room..."

"Stay in there, and don't make me change my mind about it," Matsumoto said, stretching his arms over his head. Sho looked down at his coffee as he saw the man's shirt creep up, exposing pale skin.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." He waited another moment, another sip of coffee. "Japan in defeat, you said last night. Supposing I was looking for a good place to document that."

Matsumoto snorted. "You'll earn your money, Sakurai-san. Walk a block that way, walk another in the opposite direction. You'll see the lines for food. For medicine. It won't take you very long to find something appalling to send home to America."

Sho sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't..."

"Nino told me you're from here. Born in Tokyo," the man admitted. "You never became a citizen? Your Japanese is still damn good."

He shook his head. "Thought about it."

"And?"

Sho thought about Manzanar, about the barbed wire and his mother's shame every time she returned from the showers or the toilets. "Decided to keep my Japanese citizenship."

"Well, I don't leave for the restaurant until after dark," Matsumoto said. "You want the guided tour?"

Sho wondered if this had been Nino's original intention. To let Sho stay with him, catch up on old times, and then show him how much the place they'd grown up in had changed. Matsumoto was readily stepping in, taking on Nino's role. But why? They'd been housemates for a few months. Why was Matsumoto so willing to lead some Americanized fool reporter around? Why was he so keen to carry out Nino's wishes?

But he figured the offer wouldn't be on the table forever. He smiled weakly. "Thank you. I would appreciate any help you could give."

Matsumoto nodded. "Just let me throw myself together. We'll find you plenty to write about."

\--

1933

As soon as they were concealed behind the rose bushes in the back garden, Nino pulled the watch out of his pocket. "How about this for your mother's birthday?" he asked, wicked grin marring his innocent face.

"You know my mother's birthday is in April." Sho rolled his eyes. "You didn't steal this, did you? I mean, if my father finds out I'm hanging out with a delinquent..."

Nino laughed, doubling over in near hysterics. "Steal? Steal, me? Sakurai Sho, I am disgusted! I didn't steal this. I found it."

"You found it? I doubt that. This probably came from some fancy shop in Ginza..."

Nino shoved the watch back in his pocket. "Fine, you don't trust me. Your loss. And I was going to sell this to you at a discounted rate."

"You can save your discounted rates, Ninomiya," Sho pouted.

Nino was starting to worry him. The rate at which Nino was starting to "find" things around town was alarming. Today it was a fancy watch. Last week it had been gold cufflinks. What would he get next? And if he was making money off of his little schemes, Sho prayed that word of it wouldn't reach his father. It was bad enough that Sho "fraternized" with the son of their former chef. If Nino was up to no good, Sho would never be able to see him again. His father would see to that.

Nino got to his feet, brushing dirt off of his jacket. He seemed rather hurt that Sho wasn't interested in his latest activities. "Well, I need to get going."

"You just got here," Sho pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you were supposed to be amazed by my very special offer, and since you clearly don't know a good deal when you see it..."

"Oh, don't be sore about your stupid watch. What, did you wait for one of the links to break and for it to fall off some rich woman's wrist? Or did you take it from a lost and found bin?"

Nino shook his head, disgusted. "That's just like you, Sakurai. You always assume the worst about people. I can see that anyone who doesn't have a rose garden in their yard or a car of their own's probably just a criminal to you."

"What?" Sho cried. "Nino, I don't care about things like that..."

"Things like what?" Nino said, getting up in his face and sneering at him. "You don't care that we're poor? Is that it? Oh lucky me, Sakurai Sho doesn't care that we're poor. He sleeps under his silk sheets every night, thinking how good he is for having poor friends. How kind and generous he is."

Sho grabbed Nino's arm. "What the hell is your problem today?"

"What the hell is yours?" Nino shouted back. He wrenched his arm away and pulled the watch from his pocket. "I didn't steal the damn thing, okay? I didn't. Someone was stupid enough to lose it. Is that my fault? No, it's really not." He threw the watch into the rose bushes. "But to hell with it."

"Nino..."

His friend grabbed his bookbag. "I'll see you later."

"Nino, come on. Just wait and take the damn watch." He crouched down, fumbling around in the dirt for the stupid thing. He came away with several scrapes from the rose bush's thorns, watch in tow, but Nino was already gone when he looked back up.

\--

The line for rice stretched down a solid city block as he and Matsumoto watched from the other side of the street. He jotted down a few phrases on his notepad. Maybe the suffering would resonate back home. But, Sho thought, maybe the folks in America would be thinking "serves them right." Sho didn't know, and he didn't really want to know. Matsumoto wasn't curious enough to sneak a peek at what he was writing, at least as far as Sho could tell. He lived this every day. Turning it into prose wasn't interesting to him.

Sho watched one woman leave her place in line, moving to the front to get down on her knees and beg to move ahead. Her children were starving, couldn't she please get her family's rice ration first? But the other women in line had ignored her pleas. Eventually the woman got up, ushered to the back of the line by a policeman trying to keep order.

In Manzanar, there'd been food lines. After the first few months, they'd all been allowed to start little plots to grow their own vegetables. Nobody had eaten well at Manzanar, but nobody had starved.

"Her children aren't the only ones going hungry," Matsumoto said. "They listen to her, and they understand her. They just can't help her without hurting themselves."

Sho found himself scratching down Matsumoto's words. This time, the other man seemed to catch on, and he started walking away before Sho was done.

"Wait," Sho said, hurrying to try and match Matsumoto's pace as they left the rice line behind. The streets were tricky to navigate. There were patches of ice here and there to dodge as well as plenty of rubble and garbage. But Matsumoto made it all seem effortless, as though walking around the debris was just something one had to do.

"Did you get enough? You get paid by the word or something?" Matsumoto asked, leading Sho back in the direction of Bar Ryusei.

"I don't," Sho said, though not so Matsumoto could hear him. It wasn't like Sho had forgotten the good coffee and tea in Nino's apartment. And he'd noticed there was no shortage of food in the place. Nino ran a bar, Matsumoto worked in a restaurant. Who in Tokyo had the money to visit those kinds of establishments? Not any of the people he'd seen in the streets that day. He couldn't afford for Matsumoto to throw him out though, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

It was near dark when they made it back to the bar, and Sho was surprised to see an Aston Martin parked in front. How much had it cost to import that into Japan, especially now? Matsumoto paused just before they crossed the street.

"Takahashi's here." He took his keys from his coat pocket. "I'm going around back. You don't need to wait up for me..."

"Matsumoto-san?"

But the man was already heading off in the direction of the alley, leaving Sho to deal with whoever Takahashi was. He was Nino's friend, showing up with such a fancy car? Sho crossed the street, seeing Tanaka in the tailor's shop looking out. As soon as he noticed Sho, he hurried away from the glass. Seeing the Aston Martin in the neighborhood must have drawn everyone's attention.

There was a light on inside, and the front door to Bar Ryusei was unlocked. Sho took off his hat and entered to find a man sitting at the bar counter alone. It seemed as though Takahashi had a key to the bar. Perhaps he was one of Nino's investors.

"Sorry to intrude," Sho said quietly, and the man turned around. Sho could see from the man's coat that he was rather wealthy, if the car out front hadn't already been a dead giveaway. His shoes were well-polished, and he had intelligent eyes that seemed to light up as soon as he saw Sho enter. He was balding, closer to Sho's father in age. Nino's good friend was this much older?

"It's no intrusion," the man said, instantly reminding Sho of the men in his father's own social circles. In Japan or in America, men with power acted similarly. He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver business card holder, presenting Sho with his card. It only bore his name, no mention of a company. "I am Takahashi Katsumi. You must be the friend, Sakurai. I received word you'd finally arrived, wanted to come personally and make sure you were being taken care of."

First, Matsumoto was ensuring that Nino's wishes were being carried out. Now it was this Takahashi fellow's turn. Sho accepted the card with a nod. "Yes, Sakurai Sho. I'm afraid I've only recently arrived from America. I'm sorry I have no card to exchange."

Takahashi waved his hand. "Don't worry. It must have been a long journey, business cards being the furthest from your mind, surely. Don't worry, Sakurai-san. Come, come, please join me."

Sho was ushered over to the bar where Takahashi had helped himself to a bottle of whiskey. He poured some in a glass for Sho. "Of course, no ice. Bar's been closed since the incident. No ice for us today, Sakurai-san, but we drink to the memory of this bar's master, your dear friend, Ninomiya-san. Cheers."

He barely had a chance to hold up his own glass before Takahashi's collided with it. Sho could do nothing but take a good long sip of the stuff along with Nino's pushy friend. It burned going down, lacking the ice Sho usually required to get through it.

Takahashi clapped him on the back. "Ninomiya, I say that boy was really going places. You don't find too many like him, do you, Sakurai-san?"

Sho could only go on his memories of Nino, but he certainly was unique. "No, you certainly don't."

"It's a damn shame. A terrible shame. Why, haven't we lost enough men? What with the war finally ending? And of all the ways to go. A terrible shame," Takahashi said, only allowing Sho time to nod before he continued on. "God allows an old man like me this many years, and someone like Ninomiya, gone so suddenly."

"It certainly came as a shock to me," Sho admitted, taking another more measured sip from his drink.

"Of course it did, son, of course. I was there. A damn shame, I was right there with Ninomiya when it happened."

Sho blinked. Takahashi had been there when Nino had been struck?

"That truck was going too fast, my word. It just came barreling down the street. Somehow Matsuyama, my associate Matsuyama and me, we both managed to get out of the way. Just barely, mind you, just barely. I thought it would have gotten all three of us, one, two, three. But oh, Ninomiya. I say, that boy had the quickest mind, but he'd been crouching down, you see. We were talking, the three of us. Myself, Matsuyama, Ninomiya. Just talking, and the boy dropped something, and we only just got aside, Matsuyama and myself..."

Takahashi poured himself some more whiskey, adding even more to Sho's glass. It was clear that the man would rule any conversation he started. Sho wondered if Nino had kept up or just listened.

"A damn shame," the man told Sho, clinking their glasses. "He ran this bar like a machine. Now look around, empty. Man's not here, can't pay his employees. They don't come to work. Look around this neighborhood, bad accident like that. They won't come have a drink. What shall we do, Sakurai-san? What is to be done?"

Sho was confused. "What is to be done?"

Takahashi ignored him. "Without its owner, this place will go under. Ah, of course, how silly of me. You don't know who I am. Here I go, forcing drink down your gullet, and I've just given you my name card. How very rude. Takahashi Katsumi, Nino's dearest friend here, save yourself if I'm to understand? Bar Ryusei was my investment, of course, but it was Ninomiya, oh that sharp Ninomiya. He was running this place. Like a machine, I've said already."

"Do you plan to close it down?" Would Takahashi force him to leave? What of Matsumoto? It was clear that Matsumoto couldn't stand the man. Sho wondered if the feeling was mutual.

"Ah, it's only been a few days, of course. We're all so distressed by what's happened. Matsuyama, of course, is distraught. Definitely, him being here too. And he was so fond of Nino. They're closer in age, you see. Nino and Matsuyama. They let an old geezer like me hang around. Good boys, the both. Very good boys."

"Takahashi-san," Sho interrupted. "I'm sorry, but I was speaking with Nino's roommate, Matsumoto-san?"

Takahashi's expression didn't change in the slightest. "Of course, the fellow from the restaurant, the pretty face."

Sho didn't know how to respond to that. "Matsumoto-san told me that you arranged for the funeral and all of that?"

"Yes, as a friend, of course I did. Of course I did. I wouldn't dream of forcing his family to cover the expenses, goodness no. An accident like that? Goodness no. I insisted on taking care of everything. I invested in Ninomiya, I truly did. I saw things through to the end. Matsuyama and myself, we ensured everything was taken care of smoothly."

"Then, if you'll pardon me," Sho dared, remembering Matsumoto's rather hurt expression earlier that morning. "I was wondering why Nino's services were private? I mean, Matsumoto-san was a friend, and he very much wanted to attend..."

Takahashi's smile remained, but his eyes changed. As though Sho had said something absurd. "Well, sometimes these things slip through the cracks. Matsuyama and I, we wanted things to go smoothly, you see. We took care of it all so quickly."

"And you neglected to inform Nino's housemate, even about the services or the burial plot?"

Takahashi downed the rest of the liquor, slamming the glass down on the bar top with a sudden ferocity that made Sho jump. "It was something requiring prompt handling, you understand. Prompt handling. This freeloader has only been living here a short time, you see. A short time. He did not know Nino or his wishes the same as me or Matsuyama. I do not know what he has told you, but he was not excluded by intention but on accident. It was stressful, you understand."

Sho wasn't sure he understood. How hard could it have been to just tell Matsumoto what was going on? Or to tell anyone, for that matter? But he realized that Takahashi was not a man to cross. Somehow, Matsumoto had earned the man's scorn. Freeloader? Did Matsumoto not pay his share? Sho was realizing that there was far more to the situation than he'd even realized. What would Nino's death mean for Matsumoto, now seemingly at the mercy of Takahashi?

"Oh, would you look at the time? I'm due for dinner. With some of the Americans, you see. It's all for the best that we cooperate. Wouldn't you agree, Sakurai-san? You're one of them, yes?"

Sho took another sip of whiskey, suddenly needing the alcohol for courage. "Not exactly, no. I still have Japanese citizenship."

"Ah, but you understand. If Japan is to emerge from this situation, it's best we try and get along. There's no shame in that, no shame at all," Takahashi explained. The man was well-connected, Sho realized. What had that meant for Nino? Just how well-connected had Sho's friend become these past thirteen years?

Takahashi got down from the stool, putting his hat over his balding head. "It was wonderful to meet you, Sakurai-san. It is something I have looked forward to all week. In fact it is the only thing I looked forward to."

Sho's mind was nearly overwhelmed with their conversation. "Ah, yes, of course. I thank you for taking care of things with Nino. He was a good friend."

"A good friend who loved you dearly, Sakurai-san. You see, that is why I wished to meet you." He could see Takahashi's eyes get slightly misty. He couldn't tell if it was acting or sincerity - Matsumoto certainly would have believed the former. "Matsuyama and I, we carried Nino aside after it happened, you see."

"He was still alive?"

Takahashi nodded gravely. "In his final breaths, he told Matsuyama and myself to ensure that you were looked after when you arrived. His dying wish, you see. That you be looked after. Well, here I am, at your service." Takahashi squeezed his shoulder in a way that definitely didn't imply the friendliest type of "looking after."

Sho could only fake a smile. "I'm not sure if I'm worth all the attention. It's been so long since I've been in Japan. I fear that Nino may have overestimated my importance."

"Nonsense," Takahashi said, squeezing harder. "Don't worry, Sakurai-san. You stay here at Bar Ryusei, working on your stories. I certainly hope you'll have a pleasant visit here in Tokyo. Of course, we can't let all this alcohol go unused."

The man released him and set a key down on the counter before heading for the door. Nino was dead, and that man had been the last to see him alive. It sent a shudder down Sho's spine.

"And you'll give my apologies to the petty officer. For excluding him, of course. It was not my intention to do so," Takahashi said.

"I'm sorry, who? Petty officer?" Sho asked. What the hell was the man talking about?

Takahashi grinned. "Petty officer...second class, I think he was. Matsumoto, that is. Oh, goodness me, I never could keep the rankings straight for the airmen. I was in the army when I was a young man, not the navy. Certainly not the Navy Air Service. I stayed on the ground, thank you very much." He opened the door, waving merrily before departing.

Navy Air Service? Matsumoto had been a pilot during the war?


	3. Chapter 3

1943

"Always such a grumpy face," she said, dragging him away. "Nobody's working today."

Sho didn't see the point in watching the baseball game. If he put in a few more hours at the camp's camouflage net factory, it was another few dollars to save up. But Annie Nakajima was nobody to disobey. She pulled him along past the animal pens and the warehouses to where a crowd was already cheering the teams on.

Sho didn't really know what he thought about Annie Nakajima. He did know, though, that his father disapproved of him associating with her, which was all the more reason to do so. He was an adult after all and had been for some time. The Nakajimas had settled in Seattle about thirty years earlier, and Annie, a few years younger than Sho and born in America, had been a college student at the University of Washington before the family had been sent to Manzanar.

She was everything Japanese girls weren't supposed to be. Brash, noisy, opinionated. Physical. But Annie didn't really consider herself Japanese anyhow. She was American and proud of it. This imprisonment was just "something stupid they've cooked up," even though they'd been locked away for over a year now. From the day the pair of them had started making nets, Annie had been all over him.

Her fingernails were digging into his hand a bit as she tugged him to the edge of the crowd along the first base line. One team was calling themselves the Yankees, another the Red Sox. It was already the third inning, and the Yankees were up by two runs. Annie stood so close he could smell the soap she used. She always spent her money from the factory on the nicest soap the co-op had to offer.

Annie's English was perfect, on account of being born and raised speaking it. Her parents still spoke Japanese at home from time to time, but she'd stopped listening long ago. She didn't seem to mind that Sho's family wasn't American - they were all locked up just the same. "Can you see from where you are?" she complained, getting up on her tiptoes to try and see over the crowd.

"Not really," Sho said. "I can see the scoreboard."

"Well, that's more than me." She poked him in the side. "Maybe I should sit on your shoulders, huh?"

He shook his head. "I'd drop you. You'd want one of the guys who helps carry in the sacks of flour to the co-op. Someone not so delicate as me."

Delicate was Annie's favorite word for him. Delicate Sakurai Sho, probably raised in a Kyoto zen garden with a bunch of geisha girls waiting on him hand and foot. "Well," Annie said, snaking her arm around his waist in a way that would definitely embarrass Sho's father if he ever took a step out of their barracks. "Looks like the game's a bust then."

"Looks like."

She tugged on him again. The girl could not, would not settle down, and on they walked, past the guard tower and along the fence at a safe enough distance that they wouldn't look like they were plotting a foolish escape. They made their way around to the factory again, and she brought him inside, into the empty break room.

"We're going to get caught," he told her.

But she ignored him. She always did, pushing him down into one of the break room chairs. She sat right down on his lap, resting her arms around his neck. "Then let them catch us. Better to get caught fooling around than stealing food or plotting something dumb."

Again, Sho wasn't sure how he felt about Annie Nakajima. But he was 26 years old, and he hadn't had too many girlfriends. Things had never really worked out. The girl would be too talkative or too shy, or Sho just didn't care. Annie didn't really want much more from him than this, and Sho supposed that any young man in his position would do the same. Wasn't it what he was expected to do? Kiss a pretty girl, feel her up, pull out quick so you didn't get her pregnant?

Her mouth was soft and warm, and she never said she loved him. She'd had a boyfriend back in college. She was probably just lonely. It usually took a while to get going, but Annie didn't think there was anything funny about him. Maybe she thought it was because they were prisoners and hardly ever alone. Getting hard wasn't always easy. And if she ever did ask him why it took him so long, he would have told her as much. It wasn't like he owed her the truth. He still had a difficult time accepting it himself.

She probably hadn't intended to watch the baseball game anyhow, Sho realized when he put his hand under her dress and found she wasn't wearing anything under it. He shut his eyes tight as soon as he felt her all around him. All he had to do was let her move, and Annie Nakajima could have been anybody.

\--

He locked the front door to Bar Ryusei and headed through the back and up the stairs, whiskey bottle in tow. Nino's dying wish had been for Sho to be looked after, and it made him feel like the worst person in the world. What had he ever really done for Nino? He'd gone to America promising to write, and he hadn't bothered to look Nino up again until his work had demanded it. Nino hadn't protested or refused but had welcomed Sho as if thirteen years had been nothing more than thirteen days.

Would Sho even think of Nino while taking his last breaths?

If he had to be completely honest, no, he probably wouldn't think of him. And that told Sho just what kind of man Nino had become. It also told Sho what kind of man he'd become himself, and he felt ashamed.

There was almost no sign that Matsumoto lived in the apartment. The pillow and blanket were gone from the couch, maybe hidden back in the guest room cabinets. Sho set the bottle down on the coffee table, moving to the bookcases. There were a few photographs in simple frames. One Sho recognized as the place where Nino had grown up. Another was Nino and his sister. A third was Nino outside of Bar Ryusei, shaking hands with Takahashi Katsumi.

There were no pictures of Matsumoto at all, no sense of his history or just how he fit into Nino's life or even Nino's apartment. With the way Matsumoto acted, he and Nino had grown close since they'd lived together. So why was there no trace of him? Everything he used - pillow, blanket, coffee mug - served its purpose and was immediately put back. There were no personal decorations in the guest room in the rear of the apartment, even though Matsumoto had claimed the room was his own. Maybe he just kept his clothing in the drawers, but otherwise, there was no readily visible sign that Matsumoto even lived there.

Sho was overthinking things. If Matsumoto had been in the military like Takahashi had said, he was probably used to living without luxuries. He was used to living simply.

But Sho was tired. Walking the streets, watching nothing but suffering had been tiring enough. Then trying to keep up a conversation with Takahashi had been nearly impossible. The man had spoken in circles, in an overly friendly tone that Sho hadn't expected on a first meeting. And then the man's casual mention of Matsumoto's former place in the Navy Air Service. Over the course of the conversation, Takahashi had spoken of Matsumoto as a pretty face and a freeloader - as though he didn't know very much about him at all. But then their conversation had ended with Takahashi's ready recollection of not just Matsumoto's military background, but even his rank. What had been the purpose of that?

His mind needed a rest as much as his body. It was only just after 8:00, and he'd gotten a late start as it was, but he found himself wandering past Nino's still closed door to the room with the tatami flooring. He realized as he got ready for bed that he had ostensibly stolen Matsumoto's futon. Feeling more than a little guilty, he rummaged around in the cabinets and found enough bedding to set up another. He'd already dirtied the first, so he decided to sleep in it again, but the other one was ready if Matsumoto needed it. It was better than a pillow and blanket, no matter how nice the sofa was. He fell asleep feeling slightly less like an intruder.

This time, he heard Matsumoto come in. The man was doing his best to be very quiet, sliding open the cabinet to retrieve his blanket and pillow again. But Sho sat up. "Wait, wait, you don't have to go," he said, fumbling around in the dark to find the small lamp on the table.

Matsumoto shrank back against the cabinet as soon as Sho turned on the light. "I was trying to be quiet." His eyes found the other futon Sho had laid out almost immediately. "The sofa is fine, you know."

"Maybe, maybe not," Sho said, realizing it was probably an awkward proposition. It had seemed more sensible when he was setting it up for him earlier. Now a good seven hours or so of sleep made it seem foolish.

Matsumoto nodded, sliding the cabinet back open and replacing the pillow and blanket. It seemed he'd give in to Sho's feeble attempt at kindness. "Come on, I'll make some tea."

It didn't seem as strange this time around, sitting on the loveseat while Matsumoto boiled water in the kettle. Now that Takahashi had mentioned Matsumoto's military service, it was all the more obvious. Matsumoto didn't waste time, taking out clean mugs while the water was bubbling. His eyes were always on the next thing he had to do. Sho hadn't always been the best judge of character, but there was something about Matsumoto that he inherently trusted. It was the exact same reason why he hadn't cared much for Takahashi Katsumi.

And yet, both men had been important to Nino. Takahashi in business, Matsumoto at home. He wondered if day two was an appropriate enough time to pry. It probably was not, but he could tell that there was the slightest tension in Matsumoto's body as he moved through the kitchen. He was probably wondering what Takahashi had had to say, but didn't feel it was his business to ask. Sho decided that he would volunteer information first, if need be.

The tea was prepared, and Matsumoto brought the kettle in along with a potholder. "Again, I'm sorry to wake you."

"I think I could get used to this though," Sho decided. Tea at this strange hour. It seemed almost like a sacred ritual to Matsumoto, and if they were to continue staying together for the duration of Sho's visit, it was really on Sho to adhere more to his housemate's routine. He decided to start out with some small talk. "How's the restaurant business?"

Matsumoto grinned. "Not terribly lucrative. But our manager's a woman with firm resolve. We'll never go out of business."

"Are you a chef?"

Matsumoto shook his head. "I haven't advanced so very far yet. They'll allow me to arrange an appetizer or maybe a salad, but it's a long ladder to climb. Some of the men in the kitchen have been there since before we were born." He paused. "We are close in age, aren't we?"

"I've just turned 29 myself."

The man nodded. "Yes, Nino mentioned you were a little older. You're my senior in life as well. I turned 27 last August."

Only two months younger than Nino. It seemed as though most conversations they had would turn back to Nino in the end. He was the thread that connected them. "How did you two come to live together? Of course, it was long ago, but I don't see Nino being the easiest person to live with."

Matsumoto chuckled. "Friend of a friend said a fellow my age was looking for someone to split a place over a bar. I was just starting over at the restaurant, and the location and price was right."

Sho couldn't help thinking of Takahashi's implication, that the man was nothing more than a freeloader. Matsumoto seemed to sense that something was amiss. "More tea?" he asked quietly, pouring more for Sho without waiting for an answer.

"Takahashi-san," Sho started, seeing Matsumoto's jaw clench at the mention of his name. "He had a lot to say."

"I bet he did," Matsumoto retorted.

"He claimed that you were not forgotten intentionally. Regarding Nino's services."

"And you believed him? Did he ramble on with his 'you see's' and his 'you understand's'? Was he nothing but an amiable fellow?"

Sho was wishing for the calm, easygoing manner of their earlier conversation. He shouldn't have mentioned the man at all, but it was too late now. "He said you were in the Navy Air Service, a pilot."

Matsumoto's eyes widened, but he didn't respond.

"Is it true? You flew airplanes in the war? Myself, I'm not too fond of heights. I...well, I don't think I'd have made it through flight training. It must have taken a lot of guts, getting into one of those things, no matter what side you were fighting on, right?" He was just rambling now as Matsumoto's expression grew more and more concerned. "Matsumoto-san?"

The other man set down his teacup. "What else did he have to say? About Nino, I mean, if you don't mind my asking."

He'd completely ignored the line of questioning about his military service. What had Matsumoto seen in the war? Nothing pleasant, Sho was sure, but there was something else going on here. Something he hadn't known Matsumoto long enough to ask him about.

"He said he was there with another man, Matsuyama, when it happened..." Sho explained. "That he and Matsuyama barely got out of the way. They brought Nino across the street, and he...well, he passed on."

Matsumoto looked confused. "They moved him?"

"Well, out of the middle of the street, surely."

"I see."

"And then Takahashi said that Nino wished for him to look after me with his dying breath. That sounds like something out of a movie, huh?"

Matsumoto seemed suspicious. "Don't get me wrong, Sakurai-san, Nino really was fond of you. But that sounds like an odd story, don't you think? Dying words, last requests, that sort of thing. I mean, Tanaka-san. He's the tailor next door, have you met him?" Sho nodded. "Well, he saw the whole thing happen. He didn't want to tell me anything, on account of sparing my feelings, whatever that means. But it was a truck, barreling right down the road. Wouldn't that just be a quick death right there?"

Sho shrugged. "I'm not sure, I'm no doctor."

"And he tells Takahashi Katsumi his final words," Matsumoto grumbled. "Look after my friend, Nino says. He doesn't say, hey Takahashi, you could've shoved me out of the way or at least given a shout."

Sho chuckled. "That sounds like something the Nino I remember would have said."

"Well, the Nino now probably would have. He wasn't the most sentimental fellow I've ever met. I mean, no offense to you, but you get hit by a truck and you're using your final moments to make sure your houseguest's going to be fine? I mean, you're not calling out for your mother? Or just groaning in absolute misery?"

Sho didn't want to think about Nino in absolute misery or the truck striking his friend or anything like that. But then something else Matsumoto said finally sank in. "Wait, you said Tanaka? The tailor next door?"

"Yeah, he saw the whole thing. He's always watching out the window of his shop. Kind of the neighborhood gossip."

Sho thought back to his conversation with the man the day before. "He told me. About Nino, I mean. He said he'd been in the back of his shop. That it was all over when he came outside to look."

Matsumoto's eyes widened. "That's not what he told me."

He remembered Tanaka earlier that day, watching the Aston Martin out the window. Why would the man have lied? And which man had he lied to? Sho or Matsumoto? He got up suddenly, Matsumoto's eyes following him as he grabbed his coat from the rack.

"Sakurai, what are you doing?"

He opened his coat, staring at the lining for a moment before taking his fingers to the edge where it met wool. He tore it, separating the fabrics. "There," he said.

Matsumoto laughed. "The hell are you trying to do?"

Sho pointed to the coat. It definitely needed repairs now. "I think tomorrow morning I'll give Tanaka a visit. And he can't turn me away if I'm a paying customer."

"Sure is a strange way to go about it. That was a nice coat, you know."

He was feeling pretty clever until he realized something else. "The Times isn't going to wire me any money until I get my first report sent..."

Matsumoto sighed, getting up and pulling his wallet from his own coat. "You just act, don't you? You don't really think about what you're doing."

He thanked the man apologetically, taking the offered money and slipping it into his coat pocket. "Should probably get back to sleep. If I'm conducting my own little investigation tomorrow."

Matsumoto was already cleaning up the cups and tea kettle. "Maybe you should write a detective novel instead while you're here. Might be more cheerful."

"Maybe I could write a novel about Takahashi Katsumi and his fancy Aston Martin," Sho said, and Matsumoto didn't reply. He returned to the bedroom and his futon, leaving the light on. Had Tanaka seen Nino get killed or not? And why had he taken the time to lie to one of them?

He closed his eyes, hearing Matsumoto enter the room a few moments later. "You're sure this is okay? I'm really fine with the sofa," the man said quietly, closing the door.

Sho nodded, listening to Matsumoto fluff the other pillow and set his glasses down on the table. "Unless I'm the one intruding. I mean, if you're in favor of privacy, I don't want to be rude." Sho had just grown used to sharing sleeping space with other people. He'd been in a room with his entire family for so long that it was kind of depressing being alone, not hearing someone else's breathing.

"It's fine," Matsumoto said agreeably. "I'll turn off the light."

The room plunged into darkness, and Sho listened as Matsumoto seemed to shrug out of his clothes and settle under his blankets. It was suddenly a lot different than his little brother's whining or his father's grumbling. "I've been told..." Sho said, and it seemed almost too loud. "I've been told I snore. So, apologies in advance."

"I'll survive."

"But really, if it's terrible, you can roll me on my side." As soon as the words left his mouth, Sho felt like a real fool. He'd been stuck on that ship by himself for too long. He'd forgotten how to speak to people.

"I'm sure you're fine, Sakurai-san. Good night."

He lay awake for some time, listening to the sound of the other man's breathing until it turned into the even measure of sleep. Sho felt more and more like his visit had been a mistake. His childhood friend dead under increasingly suspicious circumstances, his sole job to document suffering, and now he was leeching off the goodwill of a man he didn't even know.

He could only hope that Tanaka could clear up any misunderstandings.

\--

1933

Sho walked cautiously and carefully down the sidewalk, hand in his pocket patting the remaining money he had left for his day's allowance. There'd been the money for the streetcar ride there and the cinema ticket, and he had to consider his ride back.

Nino was less concerned, skipping around, enjoying the freedom that came with getting away from the tightly clustered houses of his own neighborhood. He walked near the curb, hopping into the street, walking around the cars lining the boulevard. If he wasn't careful, Sho thought, he'd get himself hit someday.

He could hear the change jangling in the pocket of Nino's trousers, and Sho tried not to think about where it might have come from. Nino had even tried to pay for Sho's cinema ticket earlier, but Sho had refused. He sometimes felt like Nino was changing, growing more arrogant as he got away with more and more.

Sho would come out of school and find Nino at the gate, selling cigarettes on the sly to students and pocketing the money quickly. Nino liked to think of himself as an entrepreneur now. Sho just hoped that Nino would eventually grow tired of it and move onto a different hobby. He wondered if Nino's new little racket would become even more profitable than his girl habit. Either way, Sho was growing wary of his friend's bold declarations about what he'd managed to find and sell to "some sucker" on the other side of the city.

"What did you think of the movie?" Sho asked. They'd seen a movie about samurai and honor, and he'd liked it a great deal. There was so much history around them, and nobody really cared. His father was preoccupied with work, his mother with her social calendar, his siblings with getting the latest toys. And Nino didn't seem all that interested in the past when he was looking to his future as Mr. Entrepreneur.

"Eh, it was kind of slow," Nino said, jumping back onto the sidewalk after almost kicking the fender on someone's new-looking black Datsun Type 12. "Should have had more swordfights, I think."

Sho rolled his eyes. "But the whole point was how much he accomplished without having to fight. You know, using his brain?"

"Well, I guess so," Nino said, eyes immediately drawn to a candy shop. He ignored Sho's interest in the movie, instead pressing his finger against the glass. "Would you look at that? Look at all that chocolate, Sho-chan!"

Sho kept walking. "So what?"

"So what?" Nino complained, trudging after him and grabbing his arm, trying to get him to slow down. "I mean, it may not be something special to you, but it looks pretty damn good to me."

Sho stopped, turning around to face Nino. "You want to waste your money on candy, you go right ahead. I'll wait here."

"It's not wasting," Nino insisted before disappearing into the store. Sho stood outside, feeling strange as adults and couples walked by. They weren't supposed to be out this long. His father had given permission for them to go to the movie and return. Each little impulsive stop just meant another hour Sho would be locked up in his room for "personal reflection on the meaning of responsibility," one of his father's favorite punishments lately.

Nino came out a few minutes later with a big bag. "You're going to ruin your appetite with all that," Sho chided him as they continued on towards their streetcar line stop.

"You don't know anything."

"I mean, really, if you're this big money maker now, selling whatever it is you're selling, maybe you should save it, right? Put your money in the bank." They boarded the streetcar, and Nino kept the bag in his lap, clutching it tightly. "It's the responsible thing to do. There's no point to what you're doing if you're just going to throw it away."

He did his best to explain what he thought. Sho knew that Nino's family wasn't very well off and had almost lost their house a few times. It was dumb of him to make money and not really think about where it was going to be spent. Nino said nothing for the duration of their ride, and Sho figured he wasn't going to get anywhere. Nino was rarely interested in Sho's advice.

They got off at their stop where they'd go their separate ways. Sho sighed. "Look, I don't want to tell you what to do, so I'm sorry. Just be careful."

"The candy's not for me," Nino replied quietly, not meeting Sho's eyes. "It's for my mom. She hasn't had chocolate in...well, actually I can't remember her ever having sweets or any kind of treat. Everything she does is for me and my sister. Do you know how hard it is to see her smile, knowing that she doesn't get to have one thing that's her own? Knowing that she's encouraging me and working hard so I can have it better? I just want to give her something. Just a little something to show her that I appreciate it. So I just...I don't think I'm wasting my money, okay?"

Sho didn't know what to say in response and just watched Nino walk away, clutching the bag of sweets like it was the most precious thing he had. All Sho knew was that Nino wasn't as dumb about money as he'd originally thought.

\--

The mystery of what Tanaka the tailor had seen would remain a mystery a while longer. He'd gone downstairs and out through the front door of Bar Ryusei only to discover the "On Short Holiday" sign hanging in the tailor's window.

"Convenient holiday," Sho grumbled.

And he was sadly rewarded with Tanaka's absence over the next three days. Of course, Sho had his work to keep him busy, and he started venturing out further each day. He took a streetcar east to Asakusa one day and spent the next day circling the Imperial Palace grounds. There was much to write about, not only because of the damage from the bombings, but the sheer amount of changes that had occurred since he'd moved away.

He filled his notepad with thoughts, observations, and musings about the country as it appeared before him. It was quiet, almost desolate if he headed down certain alleys or pathways, but other places were starting to settle back to business as usual. He walked past businesses full of men in suits, carrying their briefcases as though the bombed out buildings across the street were nothing extraordinary. He watched schoolchildren run around on the playground, teasing and joking with friends.

It was nothing but contrasts as he made his way through the new Tokyo, the post-war Tokyo still in its infancy. He spent the third day preparing his first wire back to the Times. Surely there was enough for several columns on "Defeated Japan" for his editor, and the folks in the telegraph office were more than a little excited to send something all the way to Los Angeles.

It was all a very welcome distraction from everything in Kagurazaka, in the neighborhood of Bar Ryusei and all that had happened to Nino. He stayed out in the city until late, simply observing, and when he returned, the "On Short Holiday" sign in Tanaka's window reminded him of everything all over again.

The questions he wanted answered remained unanswered, and even when the latest point of the night arrived and Matsumoto returned home, there was little to say on that front.

"Tanaka?" Matsumoto always asked when he woke Sho in the guest room.

"Not yet," Sho replied, again and again as he rose from the futon and followed the other man to the living room for their late night tea.

Three days of Tanaka on holiday eventually became five. Instead of hashing out conspiracy theories and their worries about what Tanaka might or might not have seen, he and Matsumoto fell into a comfortable sort of chatter. Matsumoto made tea and related stories from the restaurant. Such and such politician had visited with a mistress. So and so member of General MacArthur's staff had gotten terribly drunk. Jun had been in the kitchen for all of it, so he didn't believe most of what the waitresses had told him was happening out in the dining room.

Sho shared his notes with him, drinking the hot tea as Matsumoto's large brown eyes scanned each page. If the man disliked the work Sho was doing or what stories of Tokyo Sho was sending back to America, he never said so. And Sho wasn't only sharing the work he was doing. Sho found as the nights went by that he was sharing himself. He found himself opening up to Matsumoto in a way he hadn't really done in so long.

They stayed up talking until the sun rose as Sho shared bits and pieces of his own childhood in Tokyo, of meeting Nino, and his school days. Matsumoto had grown up in Tokyo as well, but he was far more private. He spent more time listening to Sho or asking questions that would just keep Sho talking, but Sho didn't mind. None of the others in Manzanar had ever really befriended him. None of his co-workers at the Times had really asked him what his life had been like before coming to America or after returning from his government-mandated exile. Sho found that he had so much to say and finally an excuse to say it. Had it really been so long since he had had someone he could consider a friend?

He wondered some nights if this was how Matsumoto and Nino had interacted. If they'd had stressful days, living together in the city at the very end of the fighting, enduring the final bombings. It was a calming way to unwind. To simply take pleasure in conversation and in stories.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Matsumoto asked him on that fifth night, the seventh Sho had spent in Tokyo and the seventh time Matsumoto had served him tea in the wee hours of the morning.

"Tomorrow? You mean today," Sho joked, leaning back against the loveseat cushions. "I suppose once I wake in the afternoon..."

"That's my fault entirely," Matsumoto apologized. "I've been keeping you up later and later."

Sho shook his head. "No, don't worry. It's not a bother. But once I pull myself out of bed, I think I'll use some of my hard-earned money to buy myself a train ticket." He'd only just been informed of the funds transferred to a Tokyo bank account in his name. His father had obviously been the one to get that confirmed so quickly. Sho was begrudgingly grateful.

"A train ticket?" Matsumoto asked. "Have you run out of Tokyo stories to tell?"

Sho shook his head. "Of course not, but I've been working hard. I think I deserve a day off."

"A day off from writing and people watching? Sakurai-san, your job isn't the most taxing."

As the days passed, Matsumoto's earlier caution had given way to a bit of a teasing personality, a give and take that he'd surely honed in conversations with Nino. Sho had always borne the brunt of Nino's teasing, too, so it wasn't entirely new or unwelcome. "It wouldn't really be a day off, I guess," he said. "I was thinking of making my way to Yokosuka."

"Yokosuka?" Matsumoto whispered. "There's an American base there."

"I want to see how they're treating the people there."

Matsumoto seemed to shrink against the cushions. "I'd recommend against it."

"American sailors don't scare me," Sho declared. "I can communicate and hold my own if they want to arrest me. And it's not like they'd have cause to do so. I'd just be walking around. I'm not sneaking onto their base, Matsumoto."

"I know. You don't strike me as the overly foolish type."

"Just the regular amount of stupidity here," Sho finished for him with a snort, sipping his tea. "The American military and I are good friends."

"Oh?"

Sho swallowed, wondering if he'd let too much slip. He hadn't told Matsumoto about Manzanar. He wasn't really sure what people in Japan might have known about the relocation of Japanese and Japanese-Americans during the war. He wondered if they even cared, especially about second and third generation immigrants. Sho knew that many Japanese-Americans had fought on the American side. Some had even been granted permission to leave Manzanar in order to serve.

Matsumoto leaned forward, eyes still sharp and alert despite the late hour. He saved Sho the trouble. "Nino followed American news, what little he could get, and there wasn't much he could understand. But once he knew you were coming, he tried to find out about you."

"He did?" Sho asked. All this time Sho had been so curious about Nino and his life here that he hadn't thought that Nino might have had a similar interest in him, in the person he'd become. And Nino had told Matsumoto. Of course he had.

"He didn't find you," Matsumoto said. "But he found your father. Newspapers from here, about your father's company. About him returning to work after three years in an American prison camp."

Sho looked down, but Matsumoto pressed closer until he was at the edge of the couch cushion and closer to Sho's place on the loveseat.

"Was your father in a prison camp, Sakurai-san?"

He didn't look up but nodded his head. "Yes, he was. We all were. My family, that is. Relocated, almost all the Japanese on the west coast were. I mean, we weren't tortured, if that's what you're asking..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply..." Matsumoto trailed off, but it was already too late. The door was open, and Sho was so full of calming tea that it just didn't seem to matter if Matsumoto knew everything about him.

Everything about the past three years, the frustration and impotence of it all. Having to leave his job, his apartment. Spending each day with a father in denial, a mother in pain and shame, a sister depressed, and a younger brother enduring his teenage years behind barbed wire. He told Matsumoto about the attempts at normalcy, the schools, the newsletter, the fields they raised, and the small stores. He told Matsumoto about the dust that got everywhere, the lack of privacy, and the riot in the early months. The way the tear gas had burned.

Three years of Manzanar fell from Sho's lips, all of his rage and disillusionment brought out, and when he finally got to the closure of the camp and his return to Los Angeles, the sun was rising. Sho's mouth was dry, and he realized that Matsumoto had sat in silence, listening to him speak for nearly two hours.

"...and you must think I'm horribly pathetic," Sho chuckled, "rambling on the way I've been. Nothing but self-pity. Must have been tiring for you, I'm sorry, Matsumoto-san..."

"Sho-san," Matsumoto said, trying Sho's name for the first time since they'd become acquainted. "I don't think you have anything to apologize for."

Sho realized that he'd spent the past two hours staring pretty much at the same spot on the rug, and his face felt hot and stiff. He brought his fingers to his cheeks, feeling the faint tracks of tears that had fallen and dried at some point in his recollections. He looked up to see Matsumoto watching him intently, and he felt suddenly embarrassed.

"I should probably get some sleep. If I've got all those big plans for Yokosuka..." He got to his feet shakily, startling Matsumoto, and he nearly knocked over his teacup. Matsumoto was right there, fingers slipping around his to try and loosen his grip on the cup.

"I have it," Matsumoto said quietly, taking Sho's cup and saucer and heading for the kitchen.

The way Matsumoto had been watching him, listening to his every word, gave Sho the strangest feeling. His words had been a flood, most likely confusing and overwhelming, and yet, Matsumoto hadn't interrupted him at all. He walked to the bedroom with heavy steps and undressed quickly. When Matsumoto was in the room and the shades were drawn to block out the sunrise, Sho could feel his heart beating quickly. Something had fundamentally changed. He'd laid nearly all of himself bare, and yet he still knew so little about the other man.

"I'm sorry," he said again, this time to the darkened room.

He heard Matsumoto shifting around in his own futon. "I only wish that you could have told all this to Nino. I'm a poor substitute."

Nino. Sho had gone on and on about himself all this time. Nino hadn't factored into the equation in hours, and he felt like even more of a burden. And yet, there was a peculiar lightness in his chest that he hadn't felt in ages, as though getting his words out, telling Matsumoto his story had allowed him to finally take a step forward. He wondered if Nino would have listened so intently.

"Thank you, Matsumoto-san," Sho whispered. "For your patience."

"Jun."

"I'm sorry?"

He heard the man shift around again, turning away to face the wall rather than Sho a few feet beside him. "You can call me Jun. If you want to. It's been such a short time, but I feel as though I know so much about you that it doesn't seem fair for you to address me so formally. And I've already been rude enough to call you by your name."

"Jun then," Sho said, trying out the man's given name. "Good night, Jun."

"Good night, Sho-san."

\--

It was early afternoon when he rose to find Jun had already woken and vanished. Perhaps an earlier shift at the restaurant. He had his money ready and was just locking the door of Bar Ryusei when he noticed the movement in the building next door. Tanaka...Tanaka's holiday was over, Sho thought immediately. Yokosuka could wait.

He checked the inside of his coat, seeing the fabric was still torn and in need of repair. His excuse for entering the man's shop remained. Tanaka was sipping a cup of coffee, leaning on his sewing machine table when Sho entered, sounding tiny chimes.

"Oh, it's you...I'm sorry, I don't think I actually got your name," Tanaka said kindly as Sho took off his hat and moved further into the shop. He couldn't avoid a quick glance out the window. The street was clear and visible, even as he stepped farther inside. Tanaka would have had a perfect view of what had happened if he was by his sewing machine as he was now.

"Sakurai Sho, I am sorry I didn't properly introduce myself last week," he said apologetically, but Tanaka waved a hand at him.

"No no, you'd only just arrived, and there I was, relaying such unhappy news. Forget about it, Sakurai-san, it wasn't a time for formal introductions." He set down his coffee cup and moved forward to the counter. "I've been out of town the past few days, many apologies. My wife...I...she's been ill lately..."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you. She's quite alright. Just needed to get out of the city, you know. She has a sister in the countryside near Nagoya. You know Nagoya?"

"I haven't been in ages, but yes, of course."

Tanaka's eyes were almost wild, Sho noticed. Maybe he hadn't paid attention the other time they'd met - he'd been so distraught by the news of Nino's sudden passing that he hadn't thought to notice something strange about the tailor who'd relayed the news.

"Well, she'll be staying in Nagoya from now on. It's the best choice for her."

Sho felt that there was something more than what Tanaka was telling him. He had to keep the man talking, so he shrugged out of his coat. "I was wondering, Tanaka-san, if I could enlist your services." He set the coat down on the counter, opening it so the man could see the lining he'd ruined.

"Not so handy with a needle and thread, huh?" Tanaka asked, checking the stitches. "An easy fix, not a problem, Sakurai-san."

"Thank you. I'm glad I caught you while you were in," he said, leaning against the counter and looking out the window. The tailor took the coat and headed to his table, looking for a spool of thread that would best match the one already used in the coat's lining.

"Not at all. I do apologize for being away."

Well, Sho decided. He'd waited five days to ask. It was best he just made a move. He pointed to the window. "A fine view of the street from your shop, Tanaka-san."

"Oh, is it? Well, there's not much to look at lately. Lots of shops are closing in this part of town, other folks are hoping they'll at least get bought out before they go under."

Sho pressed on. "Not much to look at, unless people in the streets are getting run down by trucks, I suppose."

Tanaka dropped the needle on the table with a tiny thunk. He picked it back up almost immediately. "It must be horrible to stay in the neighborhood, Sakurai-san, knowing your friend was killed right here."

The man was trying to get him to stop. He was already on to his line of questioning, but Sho was a newspaper man, wasn't he? He hadn't lost his inquisitive edge in his three years away from the beat, had he? "Tanaka-san, I was just hoping you could clear something up for me. The other day I made the acquaintance of Takahashi Katsumi. The man with the Aston Martin car?"

"I've seen the car," Tanaka said quietly.

"Well, Takahashi-san was a business partner of Ninomiya's, and he was telling me that he and another business associate were here on that day. Now I know it's not a pleasant memory for anyone involved, but he said that after the truck had come through, he and this business associate had carried Ninomiya over to the sidewalk where he said his last words..."

Tanaka jammed the needle through the fabric, moving with precision. "Last words? I think Takahashi's giving you a load of b.s., if you don't mind me saying so."

Already, Sho realized that Tanaka had lied to him and not to Jun. He'd seen everything, probably from right where he was sitting in the shop, stitching up Sho's coat. Maybe Tanaka had forgotten what he'd told Sho, about being in the back of the shop when it had happened.

"What do you mean?" Sho asked, feigning ignorance. "Why would Takahashi-san lie to me about what happened? Nino was a dear friend."

"There's no way the person hit by that truck could have had any final words, Sakurai-san. No way, no how," Tanaka insisted. "Truck sent him flying, landed real funny. Now I'm no doctor, but with the way he landed, he wasn't doing too much talking."

The same as Matsumoto had suspected. Such a sudden accident would have made any chatting on Nino's part impossible, especially if it was as horrible as Tanaka made it sound. "Well, either way, Takahashi-san and his associate, Matsuyama-san carried Nino aside..."

Tanaka finished his stitching and got to his feet, picking up Sho's coat. "And the third fellow too. They all brought the poor man over to the curb."

"Third?" Sho interrupted. "What do you mean? Takahashi-san said..."

"Sakurai-san, I know my eyes mostly look down at tiny little stitches all day, but my distance vision isn't so terrible yet. It was the man who drove the Aston Martin car all right, he was holding the legs, and then the two other men moved the body aside just as the truck driver came out to look."

"There was a third man involved?" Sho asked, bewildered. Takahashi had made it fairly clear that it was him and Matsuyama. This changed everything. Who else was involved here? What the hell was going on?

Tanaka pushed the coat across the counter. "Yes. Takahashi and two other men. I swear to you."

"Tanaka-san, you said there'd been police in and out of Bar Ryusei. Did they come to ask you what happened?"

The tailor's hands were quivering as he rearranged some more spools of thread. "I...I told them I hadn't seen anything. That I was in the back of my shop."

"What? Why?"

"Thank you for your business, Sakurai-san, but if you'll excuse me, I have some more orders to attend to..."

Sho leaned forward, wanting to reach across the counter and shake every last bit of knowledge out of the man. "But why would you lie? You were an eyewitness to a crime. That truck driver was being careless. Every bit of testimony would help the police reach a conclusion..."

"Well, what does it matter what I saw? The man, the man with the Aston Martin he...he took care of everything with the police!"

Tanaka's voice was getting shakier and shakier as Sho pressured him. Why was the man so frightened? "I understand that, but Takahashi kept saying him and Matsuyama, him and Matsuyama. Did you see what this third man looked like? If he was helping them move the body..."

"He had on a hat, alright? I didn't see his face."

"But Tanaka-san, if there was another man there, why would Takahashi lie about it? What really happened out there in the street?" He caught Tanaka by the sleeve. "Please, Tanaka-san. This is getting more and more confusing to me. My friend is dead, and I'm starting to get the impression it was no simple accident! Please!"

Tanaka pulled away, eyes wide and full of terror. "Stop...stop asking me, Sakurai-san. I won't charge for fixing your coat, okay? Please, my wife is ill. My shop is in trouble. Please stop asking me all these questions!"

"But Takahashi-san is withholding information! There could be foul play involved! I need to know what happened to my friend!"

The tailor came around the counter, shoving the coat into his arms and pushing him toward the door. "I have other work to be doing. I have to keep the customers I have left, don't you understand that? You've been here a week, you've seen this city. Please, please just let me do my work!"

Sho was growing desperate. A third man. Takahashi and Matsuyama had a partner. No, Sho thought in alarm. Takahashi and Matsuyama had an accomplice. This was no accident. This was no accident at all. And with the paranoia visible in Tanaka's face, Sho was wondering how often that Aston Martin had pulled up in front of Bar Ryusei. He wondered if Takahashi Katsumi walked through Tanaka's door the day Nino was killed...

"Sakurai-san," Tanaka pleaded. "My wife. My wife is very ill."

And there it was, Sho realized. Takahashi knew there'd been a witness in the tailor shop, that Tanaka or his wife had seen what he hadn't meant for them to see. Sho had seen Takahashi's clothes and demeanor. Takahashi was influential enough to dine with members of the American occupation forces. Had he threatened Tanaka? Had he threatened Tanaka's poor wife?

He gave it one last try. He had to, for Nino's sake. At this rate, with three against one, he wouldn't be surprised if Takahashi, Matsuyama, or this third man had simply pushed Ninomiya into the truck's path that day. He remembered his meeting with the police officers, how Officer Ohno had asked just how well Sho knew Nino. What had Nino gotten himself into?

"Tanaka-san, I will leave you alone if you promise me this," he said as steadily as he could, considering how his mind was spinning with all that was starting to come to light. "Go to the police with me..."

"I can't," Tanaka cried, and Sho felt horrible as the man started to sob. "You hear me? I can't go to them."

"I know you're busy today. We'll go tomorrow, how about it? You don't have to give your name. You just say what you saw, about this third man helping to move Ninomiya's body. It gives them cause to question Takahashi. Then you go to Nagoya, you join your wife for a few days while this gets sorted." He got down on his knees, bowing forward until his head was even with the tailor's ankles. "Please, Tanaka-san, I beg you. Please."

"Sakurai-san..."

"Please. You're the only person who can help me." With everything Nino had done for him without a second thought, it was Sho's turn to do Nino a simple kindness. "Tanaka-san."

Tanaka tapped him on the back. "Please get up. Oh won't you please get up from the floor?" He desperately pulled Sho to his feet. "Are you sure I can speak to them and not give my name? He'll know it was me. Takahashi will know!"

"If Takahashi has done something terrible," Sho said, "then the police will arrest him. You won't have to worry about him again. You or your family."

Tanaka looked him in the eyes, searching and wondering, before he finally let him go with a sigh. "Takahashi is a wicked man. A terrible man."

"You'll come then?"

The tailor nodded. "Yes, I will. I can close up the shop at noon, take a long lunch and go to the police station. If it means that my wife won't have to worry about that man ever again..."

Sho bowed in gratitude, hardly able to contain his appreciation. "Thank you. Thank you, Tanaka-san, you're doing the right thing."

"Let's hope so," the man said. "Tomorrow at noon."


	4. Chapter 4

Yokosuka was impossible. Work was impossible, Sho thought now that Tanaka had given him a glimpse into all the secrets and lies. There was a man he had to speak with, another story he wanted to get before he brought the poor tailor to see Officer Ohno the following day. And that person was someone Sho expected to lie right to his face.

After leaving Tanaka's shop, he'd almost broken the key in the lock in his hurry to get back inside Bar Ryusei. He took the stairs up to the apartment two at a time, and though Nino's bedroom door had stayed shut and untouched for the past week, now was the time for Sho to step inside. "Nino, I'm sorry," he whispered aloud as he entered.

Nino's desk was a mess of papers and account ledgers. But thankfully, the police had been through - Nino's address book had been carelessly tossed on the desk. Sho would have felt far guiltier about opening the drawers and peering into what should have been Nino's private things. He flipped through the pages, seeing Nino's tiny handwriting almost mocking him.

Finally, he happened upon the name he needed. There was only one Matsuyama in the book - Matsuyama Ken'ichi. The address Nino had scribbled underneath the man's name was even more shocking. An office in Nagata-cho. Government headquarters. Sho took his pen from his coat pocket, writing down Matsuyama's address. How high up did this go? What did Matsuyama do?

Sho left the apartment, and it was after 3:00 PM when he made it to the center of Tokyo. He wasn't sure how functional the government was, but one still existed. He followed Nino's address to the Diet Building itself, his fear rising. Nino had contacts in the government? A contact that was very much present at his death?

"I have an appointment with Matsuyama Ken'ichi-san," got him past the security at the front (along with a flash of his papers and a brief mention of his father's company). The halls were fairly quiet - it seemed as though the houses of the Diet were not in session that day. Secretaries in crisp suits walked to and fro. He supposed work continued even if there were no debates happening on the floor.

The office number brought Sho to the third floor. Office of the Minister for Foreign Affairs. And there beneath the Cabinet Minister's name was Matsuyama Ken'ichi, listed as one of the minister's secretaries. A man with the ear of a Cabinet minister had been there in Nino's final moments. Takahashi Katsumi had dined with representatives of MacArthur's forces. What part did Nino play? What part had the third man at the scene played?

He knocked quickly, pulling open the door. It was a sparsely furnished reception area with a hallway beyond leading to offices. A female receptionist stood, regarding him warmly. "Welcome to Cabinet Minister Yoshida's offices. Can I help you?"

"Yes," Sho said, knowing this probably wasn't going to work. "I had an appointment with Matsuyama-san for 3:30."

The woman looked down immediately, flipping through a datebook on the desk. "I'm sorry, but I don't see any meetings for 3:30 on Matsuyama-san's schedule. Things are very busy in our office lately, you understand..."

"Of course," Sho replied, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. A smile that conveyed he was still no one to argue with. His father had taught him a few things - Sho just wasn't aware of it until now. "But if you told Matsuyama-san that Sakurai Sho is here, I would appreciate your efforts very much."

"I really cannot interrupt Matsuyama-san at this time..."

Sho tilted his head, letting his anger and frustration out with an even more cheerful smile. Something he'd learned from Takahashi Katsumi. "I'm from the Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles, you know, the United States?"

At that, the woman moved away from the desk and immediately in the direction of the offices. "Of course, from America. I'll let him know..."

"And you can tell him that I'm here concerning Ninomiya Kazunari."

The woman repeated the name quickly, hurrying off. Sho wasn't sure if it was the mention of America or the mention of Nino, but within two minutes, he was being brought tea and was seated in front of Matsuyama Ken'ichi, one of Cabinet Minister Yoshida's trusted subordinates.

Where Takahashi Katsumi had been immediately friendly, Matsuyama was cautious. He was young but professional, dressed in a well-tailored suit with neatly trimmed hair. His eyes were intensely dark and serious and his lips seemed to curl the slightest bit, as though he was aware of some joke but didn't wish to share it.

"Sakurai-san, I am glad you made it to Japan safely. I am very sorry about Ninomiya. He was a dear friend, and I will not soon forget that terrible day." He cut straight to the point in a way Takahashi hadn't bothered to do. "I suppose you've spoken with Takahashi-san about the accident."

"I have."

"It was very sudden, but Nino wasn't the type to want a lot of pomp and ceremony. I'm sorry our arrangements were so ill-timed with your arrival." He opened a drawer and took out a notepad. "If you wish to pay your respects, allow me to give you the information about the family plot."

"Thank you," Sho said, waiting until Matsuyama had written down the location and handed over the note before speaking again. "Takahashi-san described the accident for me."

"A terrible tragedy."

"I was just curious if you could tell me about the third man. I've made your acquaintance and Takahashi-san's, and I just wanted to know who else I could speak with about Ninomiya-san's passing. It would mean a lot to talk with all of you about Nino and your friendship with him. As a way of reaching closure, understanding the man Nino had become in the many years since our parting."

Matsuyama's cool expression fractured briefly, his eyebrows raising. "I'm sorry, Sakurai-san. You must have heard wrong. I'm sure it's been difficult for you. It's been difficult for all of us who were close to Nino. There was no third man. It was only Takahashi and myself with him. He told us to ensure you were..."

"...looked after, thank you very much. I have been looked after, thank you. But I'm fairly certain I heard correctly."

"Takahashi told you this?"

"No."

"Then who? The police arrived shortly after the accident. Read the police report, it's all laid out in plain language," Matsuyama insisted. The man definitely worked for a politician.

But he wasn't careful enough. Sho watched Matsuyama grip the pen he'd used to write down the cemetery information. His grip was getting tighter. "Oh, just what I heard in Kagurazaka. Several folks saw it happen, you see."

"Oh?"

He smiled. "So if you could just write down the man's address, I'd like to pay him a visit. I'd feel awfully remiss to leave Tokyo without thanking him for caring for Nino in his final moments."

"There's no address to give you, Sakurai-san. You're sadly misinformed on this subject." Matsuyama got to his feet. "And unlike Takahashi-san, I don't have a lot of free time. We're rather busy in this office. You've come from America. You know there's been a few changes around here when it comes to government."

Sho rose from his seat as well. The man was lying through his teeth. Sho knew it. He'd been lied to enough in his life to see it. "Of course, don't let me get in your way. I suppose the word of a politician's worth more than some shopkeep's, no?"

"Allow me to see you out."

"If you could tell me one thing, Matsuyama-san. One honest thing," Sho said as he stood in the man's doorway.

"I've been nothing but honest, Sakurai-san. To suggest otherwise would give me a rather unfavorable opinion of you, and Ninomiya-san had nothing but honorable things to say about you."

Sho nodded. "Then tell me this. How did you and Ninomiya-san meet?"

Matsuyama had lost his patience. "Men meet one another in all sorts of ways. But if you must know, I patronized his bar with some friends."

"Friends from the government? Chancing upon a small bar in Kagurazaka? I struggle to see how you, Takahashi-san, and Nino would have anything to do with one another..."

"Well, then I leave you to your struggle. Good day, Sakurai-san. I hope our city does not keep you away from America for too long."

And with that, the matter and Matsuyama's office door were closed. He left with a tip of his hat to the woman at the reception desk, who looked confused. Tomorrow he'd take Tanaka to the police. Then he'd go to Aoyama once more. He'd offer his prayers. He'd tell Nino that he was fighting for him, doing his best for all the years he'd forgotten him.

He had to do more for Nino. It would be morally wrong, Sho thought, but maybe the police hadn't done a thorough enough search of Nino's room. Maybe the room or Nino's address book held the clues to the third man at the scene. Sho was determined - he'd visit every address in the damn thing if it meant solving this mystery. If it meant he could prove Nino's life had been taken not by mere accident but intentionally. He had to dig up more on Takahashi, more on Matsuyama.

He had to get back to Bar Ryusei.

\--

The first thing he noticed in the alleyway was the car, parked right along the wall. He had been in that car, Sho realized. It was the one Officer Aiba had driven him in a week ago.

The police had returned to Bar Ryusei. Maybe they were already on to a third man at the scene. The lights were off in the tailor's shop - Tanaka had already gone home for the night. The back door was wide open. Sho was pretty sure he'd locked the door. The police could just barge into a man's home now? Well, Sho thought. Maybe it didn't matter if the man was dead, but Matsumoto lived over the bar too.

He stepped through the doorway, hearing voices and footsteps upstairs. Sho made no effort to conceal himself as he went up the steps. If it was the officers he'd met previously, then they wouldn't be terribly shocked by his arrival. They knew he was staying here.

And just as he suspected, he saw Aiba going through the books on Nino's shelves. The man turned to Sho and nodded. "Sakurai-san, good to see you again."

It was not the kind of greeting Sho had expected, seeing as how the police had just broken into the apartment at their own leisure. "Are you here alone?"

Aiba shook his head. Sho saw that the man had tossed his policeman's cap on the coffee table as though he was a guest and not an intruder. "Ohno-san's here too."

"Is there something I could help you with? Have there been any developments in the case?"

"The case?" Aiba asked him.

"I mean, why else would you be here going through Nino's things?" he asked, taking off his coat and hat and arranging them on the coatrack.

Aiba wanted to speak, but he turned back to the books. Instead, Officer Ohno wandered back into the room. The short man was holding some papers in his hand as he emerged from the hallway. Seeing Sho there, the man's face offered no hint of surprise.

"Sakurai-san, good evening."

"Good evening, officer. I was just asking Officer Aiba if I could help you gentlemen?"

Ohno beckoned for him to sit down, and Sho did so. Ohno handed off the papers to Aiba. He sat down on the arm of the couch, observing Sho carefully. "You've been staying here for the duration of your visit, right?"

"Yes."

Aiba was still thumbing through books, replacing them on the shelf sloppily in a way that would probably send Jun into an annoyed fit when he returned later. Ohno scratched his chin. "So if there was another man living in this apartment, you'd probably know about it, wouldn't you, Sakurai-san?"

"Another man?" he asked. "You mean Matsumoto-san?"

Aiba and Ohno exchanged a look before Ohno turned his attention back to his chin scratching. "So there is another person here?"

"Well, of course there is," Sho said. Why on earth were the police curious about that? "Nino's housemate. Matsumoto Jun."

"And how long has he been here?" Aiba asked, taking out a notepad and a pen, biting off the cap quickly with his teeth.

Sho was increasingly confused. Had something happened to Jun? What was going on? "As far as I know he'd been living with Nino since sometime last year. After the surrender."

Aiba was scribbling hastily. "And his name is Matsumoto..."

"Jun."

"Matsumoto Jun," Ohno repeated, nodding his head. "I see. Well, to tell you the truth, Sakurai-san, it doesn't look like anyone else lives here. Well, of course, we saw your things in the room back there. Don't worry, we didn't move anything. But you're sure another man, this Matsumoto's been here the whole time?"

"Yes," Sho replied, feeling increasingly annoyed. Why didn't they believe him? His earlier meeting with Matsuyama was easily forgotten now that this strange line of questioning had started. He got up, heading straight for the back room. He could hear Ohno and Aiba at his heels.

He opened the door to the rear bedroom. "See, there's two futons in here. One for me and one for..." Sho stopped when he turned on the light. His own futon was just the way he'd left it earlier that day when he'd been intent on heading to Yokosuka. But Jun's was gone, most likely away in the cabinet. Sure enough, when he slid the door open, everything was folded up and put away.

Ohno and Aiba said nothing as he looked around the room, opening the drawers and finding none of Jun's clothes. He pushed past them into the hall, opening the bathroom door and finding none of Jun's toiletries. He stood there, staring at the sink. Was Jun gone? Why had he left without saying anything? Had something happened?

"Do you need to sit down? Aiba can make you some tea," Ohno said gently.

"Oi," Aiba protested. "How come I have to make the tea?"

Ohno's hand found Sho's elbow, pulling him back to the living room. "Sakurai-san, I think it's best we be a bit more honest with you."

"Honest with me?" Sho murmured, allowing Ohno to lead him. Aiba disappeared into the kitchen, grumbling about doing grunt work.

Ohno sat beside him on the sofa. "Sakurai-san, the reason this didn't come up before was because we wanted to ensure that you didn't know anything that could tie you to Ninomiya's activities. We wanted to be sure you were innocent of any wrongdoing."

"What do you mean wrongdoing? What are you talking about?"

Ohno's voice was calm and even, almost soothing. Sho wondered how someone so gentle could have gone into detective work. "We've been investigating Ninomiya for a few months now. Before his death, I mean. He's suspected of being involved in black market trading."

"Black market," Sho whispered. He remembered Nino and their childhood together. Nino and his watches. Nino and his cigarettes. Nino and all that money.

"But as you might have guessed, there's no easy way of tracking down people like that, not now. It's a free for all. Illegal activity's going on left and right, and it takes a while to build a case. And once we build a case, we have to convince those upstairs that it's worth the time to take down."

Aiba poked his head in the room. "Are any of the teacups fine?"

"Aiba-chan, teacups are teacups," his superior chided him.

"Fine, fine."

Sho didn't know how the officers could tease one another when such a serious conversation was going on. Nino, involved in the black market? Why? Sure, Nino had been up to mischief when they were younger, but becoming a criminal? Selling things to the highest bidder? Was Nino capable of something like that? Sho wasn't sure he believed it.

Ohno leaned back, stretching until he heard a few pops in his back. "Ah, that's better. Well. I know you said that you and Ninomiya were childhood friends. I feel terrible being the one to let on about who he really is, but it's best you hear it from us, I suppose."

Was that what had happened? Had a deal gone south? Did the black market tie Nino to Takahashi Katsumi? To Matsuyama Ken'ichi? To the American occupation? But what about the third man...who the hell was he? Had Nino been killed for what he might have known?

"But about this housemate of Ninomiya's," Ohno continued as Aiba came in, tea kettle in one hand, three teacups stacked precariously in the other. "We received an anonymous call that Ninomiya might have been harboring someone here, a criminal."

A criminal? "Well, Matsumoto-san's the only person who's been here," Sho explained as Aiba poured the tea. "He doesn't seem like a criminal."

"Can you tell us about him?"

There wasn't much to tell, Sho realized. He'd been so preoccupied with Nino and so preoccupied with his own troubles that there was very little he could actually say about Matsumoto Jun. And he'd seen the man, spoken to the man. Hell, he'd slept in the same room as him for five nights, and there didn't seem to be anything off about him. Anything strange that would imply a criminal past.

"As I said, he's been living here with Nino for several months. He works late. He's a chef in training at a restaurant."

"Do you know which restaurant?" Aiba asked.

Sho realized that he'd never asked. "Ah...no, I'm sorry, I don't know the name."

"The neighborhood then? Any idea where it might be located?" Ohno asked.

Sho felt his heart start to beat faster. The man had listened to his stories quietly, respectfully. When their hands had brushed only the night before, it had awakened something in Sho that he'd tried so long to repress. Jun was the first person in the longest time that he'd been able to open up to. And yet...who was he?

"I...I don't know that either," he muttered.

Aiba was writing down notes again. "So Matsumoto Jun, works late at a restaurant...somewhere in Tokyo. Can we ask you another name, Sakurai-san? Would that be alright?"

"Yes, I suppose so..."

Ohno motioned for Aiba to grab the papers he'd retrieved earlier. The younger detective rose from the sofa and grabbed them from the bookcase where he'd left them. Ohno took them, not unfolding them yet. "Does the name Goda Takeshi sound familiar to you? Have you heard that name before?"

Sho hadn't. "No, I'm afraid not."

"And if I told you that Goda Takeshi had served in the Navy Air Service, would that do anything to improve your memory?" Ohno asked.

Sho froze. Takahashi Katsumi. He'd been the one to hint about Jun's military service. Sho remembered mentioning it, how Jun had clammed up, refused to answer any questions about it. What had Jun done? Why had he changed his name? And had Sho's nosiness into what happened to Nino brought this about? Had Takahashi been the "anonymous" tip that had reported Jun to the police? As some kind of warning? No, Sho thought. He couldn't afford to let Jun go down after what Takahashi had already done to Nino.

"I'm sorry," Sho said, lie tasting bitter on his tongue, more bitter than the awful attempt Officer Aiba had made at tea. "I really don't know anyone named Goda Takeshi."

Ohno unfolded the identity papers. They looked real, as real as Sho's. The name was registered as Goda Takeshi, born the 30th of August, 1918. 27 years old, the same as Jun. "I found these, believe it or not, in Ninomiya's room. So you're absolutely sure there's no Goda Takeshi here? Just this Matsumoto who works at a restaurant? Matsumoto wasn't in the service, was he?"

"No, I don't think so," Sho replied, adding on another lie. Why was he lying for Jun? Or rather, why was he lying for Goda Takeshi?

"Well," Ohno said, suddenly getting to his feet and dropping the identity papers on the coffee table as if they no longer held his interest. "If you really don't know anything, then you don't know anything. You've only been here a week, and we're drudging up all these nasty things. But what you could do for us, Sakurai-san, is have this other fellow..."

"Matsumoto Jun-san," Aiba said, tapping his notepad.

"Matsumoto, right," Ohno said, picking up Aiba's hat from the table and tossing it to him. "Tell him we came 'round asking about Goda Takeshi. See what he knows. It would be most helpful. Hell, maybe this Goda character was here and left a while back, right? If Matsumoto's been here as long as you say, surely he'd know."

"It's a possibility," Aiba agreed, and the two policemen headed for the stairs and their shoes.

Sho was left stunned. Nino a criminal? And Jun too? A shadowy black market and Nino murdered? He finally found his voice just as the two men started down the stairs.

"Wait."

They stopped, and Sho got up, walking to the stairwell and looking down at the officers' faces. They were both calm, no suspicion on either one. "If I ask Matsumoto about him, this Goda Takeshi person. I mean, you said he was a criminal. I'm sure Matsumoto-san would want to know this. What's Goda accused of?"

"I'll start the car, boss," Aiba said quietly, going on ahead.

Ohno scratched his chin again, looking Sho straight in the eyes with his same solemnity.

"Murder." He adjusted his hat. "Good night, Sakurai-san."

\--

1933

The car was waiting. His mother, Mai, and Shu had already gone ahead and were waiting at the ship. Sho's father was with their real estate broker, doing the final once over on the house while Sho stood in the driveway waiting. The two of them would go together. He wasn't looking forward to the drive. He expected his father to lecture him about his expectations at the American high school he'd be attending. Sho was expected to also attend a Japanese language school part of the time. He doubted he'd get much free time to enjoy himself.

The driver waited in the car patiently, and Sho almost wanted to get in and ask the man to drive him to Yokohama right then. Knowing his father's attention to details, they wouldn't be departing any time soon anyhow. Sho was sixteen years old and beyond exhausted with all his father's damned lectures. He idled outside of the parked car, shoes kicking impatiently at the gravel drive, sending up little puffs of dust.

He'd seen photographs of their new house. It was just as grand as their home here, but there were palm trees along the street, and the weather would be warmer come winter. There were no rooms with tatami flooring - just plush carpeting or fancy tile. His mother was the envy of all her friends, moving to such a luxurious home near all the American movie stars. Sho, however, wasn't terribly thrilled.

He was sixteen, and he'd be a grown man soon. He only had two years remaining in high school, then university. But his father had insisted they all stay together - Sho couldn't stay in Japan and be a burden to his grandparents. No, they would go to America as one happy family. A perfect, well-mannered Japanese family.

He kicked at the gravel one more time, sweating unhappily in the summer heat, before hearing additional crunching that indicated another person's footsteps. He turned to see that Nino had come through the gate. He was still wearing his baseball uniform from his junior high team - they'd had a game that day, and Sho hadn't been able to go. His father hadn't allowed it since there'd been "no time" for it. Well, here was Nino now. The game was over, and Sho had been waiting for over an hour in the heat for his father to be ready.

Nino walked up with the same slow gait he always had when he stepped onto the family's property, as though Sho's father would come out any moment and tell him to go in the staff entrance. Sho walked over to meet him, further away from the house and the waiting car.

"Weren't you all going out for a meal after the game?" Sho asked.

Nino looked at him like he was stupid. "You're leaving today, though."

But they'd already said their goodbyes just the other day. They'd been at the riverbank, talking for hours about stupid things, and Nino had given him a picture of the two of them as a present. It was packed away in Sho's suitcase, now resting in the car's trunk behind him. He was surprised Nino hadn't tried to give him something he'd "found" for old times' sake.

"You didn't have to come all the way here," Sho said quietly.

"I did, Sho-chan," Nino replied immediately. "I wanted to."

None of Sho's friends from school had bothered to stop by. He was fairly sure he wasn't going to miss any of them. Not the way he'd miss Nino. "Did you win?"

Nino rolled his eyes. "We went down, 5-2. So many stupid mistakes."

"Sorry to hear that."

They stood quietly for a few moments, listening to the cicadas in the trees. There wasn't much more they could say, and they both knew it.

"Thank you," Sho said finally, trying to give Nino a weak smile. "For coming here and saying goodbye. I appreciate it."

Nino's hand shot out, wrapping around Sho's wrist. Then Nino was pulling him into a strong hug. "Come on, it's okay to hug me, you know."

"Nino..." he complained as the younger boy's skinny arms held on tight.

"Just shut up."

He didn't want to admit how much this meant. How much Nino's friendship and loyalty meant. "It's only an ocean, right?"

"Like a little pond, Sho-chan." Nino let him go, giving him an obnoxious little salute. "It may not mean much, but I'll be here, whenever you need me."

\--

Sho wasn't sure how long he stood at the top of the stairs after Ohno and Aiba left, but he somehow found his way back to the sofa, collapsing onto the cushion Jun usually occupied during their late night tea sessions.

Jun. He'd only just started thinking of Matsumoto by his given name, and if the papers on the table were the genuine article, then maybe it wasn't worth thinking of Jun as Jun at all. He sighed heavily, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

There'd been Tanaka earlier that day, assuring Sho of a third man at the scene of the crime. Then Matsuyama, claiming the opposite and hurrying him out of his office. And now there'd been the police, turning Sho's entire world upside down. Nino a black market profiteer, Jun a murderer. None of it made any god damned sense.

"Goda Takeshi," he muttered angrily, picking up the papers from the table and looking them over one last time. "Who the hell are you?"

He threw them back down, running his hands through his hair and scratching his scalp. It didn't matter who Nino was, Sho decided. Maybe Nino had just been in over his head - with comrades like Takahashi and Matsuyama, he could understand how easy it would be to get lost in shadowy deals and intrigues. Whatever had happened, it had gotten Nino killed, and Sho was determined to prove it. He couldn't leave Japan until he'd seen this thing through to the very end.

And Jun too. The man had been so kind, so patient all these nights. Murder? No, Sho thought. There had to be more to it than that. He'd just have to demand an explanation - if the police were coming around to investigate, then it was on Sho to see that things were cleared up. He was the one who'd come over from America and started poking his nose in where it didn't belong. It was his responsibility to finish what he'd started.

He got to his feet and grabbed the Bar Ryusei key from his coat pocket, slipping on his shoes and marching straight down the stairs to the ground floor. He wasn't going to find anything in Nino's apartment if the police had come up with nothing more than identity papers for this Goda Takeshi. He found that the key not only worked for the front and rear bar doors, but it unlocked the storage rooms in the hall.

"Bar Ryusei - Management Only" said the sign on the door, but Sho was done being polite. He was done playing by the rules, and he wasn't going to be kept in the dark any longer. He fumbled around until his hand hit a light bulb, his fingers finding a metal chain to get the light on. It didn't look like the police had been in this room. Unlike the ransacked state of Nino's bedroom, the office here was still neatly organized. Had they not been in here or had someone set it to rights again?

Sho shoved the key in his pocket and checked out the desk. More account ledgers, year to year, starting with 1939. Nino had been in business here just over six years. That would have made him about twenty-one. Still a kid and opening a bar? No wonder he'd sought help from an outside investor, a wealthy man about town like Takahashi Katsumi. The ledgers revealed little. Bar expenses like the liquor license, the cost of glassware and the liquor itself. Hourly wages for staff. Nino's books seemed clean, balanced, no funny little line items - the bar itself was legitimate.

He scanned the room. A file cabinet, a few crates with bottles of hard liquor, a box full of coasters emblazoned with the bar's name. Then Sho's eyes found the wall and the picture hung there. A photograph, somehow manipulated and enlarged so it was the size of an average portrait in a gallery. This photo hadn't made it into a frame upstairs. Sho felt an overwhelming sadness enter him for the first time since he'd learned of Nino's passing.

It was a print of himself and Nino, a photograph Sho still had somewhere in Los Angeles in a shoebox, tossed under his bed or in a closet since it held little value once he'd grown up and changed. He was about ten years old in the photo, Nino about eight. Nino's father had still been with their family then, had still been the Sakurai family's chef. Sho was looking away embarrassed, but Nino had his arm around him and his usual know-it-all grin. Behind them was the rose garden at Sho's former home, in the full bloom of summer. Sho remembered that day - Sho's father had taken the two boys and Mai to a baseball game - his father's alma mater Keio University against Waseda. Nino had come home convinced he was going to be a baseball player when he grew up. Sho liked rugby better.

He couldn't help walking forward, touching his hand to the picture of the two young boys. 1927 - had it really been so long ago? He kept this picture in a box, Nino had blown it up and framed it, cherished it. He'd been confused, shocked, and angered by Nino's death until now. Only at that moment, seeing how happy Nino was--eight year old Kazunari, the cook's son--finally brought tears to Sho's eyes.

He broke down. He didn't know how he hadn't until then, but it all caught up with him in a sudden rush. He looked at the photograph with tears in his eyes, looking at Nino's smile and little Sakurai Sho's embarrassment. "Why didn't I write to you?" he asked the little boy in the photograph. "Why did I forget you?"

Young Kazunari didn't answer, staring straight ahead at the camera. Sho had gone to America, started a brand new life. He'd left Nino behind, Nino with his schemes and his developing promiscuity. Sho had remained wealthy, living in a country that didn't go to war until '41, learning English and going to college and living the good life. He'd left Nino in poverty. He'd left Nino to the American bombs.

He couldn't look at it. He couldn't look at the picture any longer. He grasped the frame, tugging it up and off the wall only to reveal the door to a safe built right into the concrete. If anything, the truth about the man Nino had become lay just beyond the safe door. He stared at the lock, and he needed three numbers.

17-06-18. June 17, 1918. Nope. Nino hadn't thought to use his own birthday. 25-01-17. Sho felt slightly ashamed and self-involved to discover Nino hadn't chosen his birthday either. He thought back to the picture that had covered the safe's existence. He didn't remember what day it had been, just some time in the summer. It wasn't worth trying every summer date in 1927. But Nino had chosen to put that picture on the wall for a reason.

He stood there turning the dial again and again until the tears dried and his mind seemed incapable of pondering any other numbers. Addresses, birthdays, any combination of three numbers Sho thought was meaningful. He decided to give it one last selfish shot. He'd counted down the days back then, the days until Japan was behind him and America before him. Sho moved the combination dial one last time.

11-06-33. June 11, 1933 - the day Sho's family had departed for America, and the day Ninomiya Kazunari had last seen his best friend.

The safe door opened, and Sho exhaled. "Nino, I'm sorry."

He wanted to shut the door as soon as he'd opened it, seeing money in even, thick stacks arranged neatly within. A bar wasn't that profitable, Sho knew. Especially not recently, not in bombed out Tokyo. The police had probably not been lying. Nino's money came from black market activity, and neither Aiba nor Ohno had seemed interested in telling him what exactly that was.

"What were you doing?" he wondered aloud. Did Takahashi Katsumi know about this safe? Did he know the combination? Had he killed Nino over this money?

Besides the money, there was a manila envelope. He took it with shaking hands, opening it to reveal that Nino and Jun had probably not become roommates through happenstance. Within the envelope were military dogtags, stained with dark, dried blood. Sho squinted, reading the characters. Goda Takeshi.

"You weren't supposed to find that."

Sho jumped, dropping the dog tags to the floor and finding Jun standing in the doorway looking exhausted. There were a million things he wanted to say to Jun right then - a million more things he wanted to scream at him, demand from him. He couldn't say any of them as Jun entered the room, toting a small bag. He picked up the dog tags from the floor and stood up, setting them back in the manila envelope.

Jun set the envelope back in place and opened the bag, adding a few more stacks of bills to the safe, just as neatly as the others. "Excuse me," he said quietly, hand brushing against Sho's shoulder to move him aside so he could close the safe door once more, spinning the dial at random.

Jun zipped the bag closed and moved to set it down on Nino's desk before reaching for the light bulb chain. "Come on, let's get upstairs."

"No."

Jun paused, eyes so tired behind his glasses. "Sho-san, I don't want to talk about this down here."

"What's wrong with this room?" Sho asked quietly. "It's obviously an important place. This where Nino kept all the money he'd gotten illegally?"

"I wouldn't know about the legality," Jun said. "I didn't ask him."

Sho couldn't help picking up the photograph, hanging it back where he'd taken it down. Now that Jun was in the room, he felt like he had no choice but to help him keep things tidy. Keep things hidden out of sight like they didn't exist. Jun was good at that.

"So all that money in the safe? All the money you just put into it? Where's it from?"

"Sho, let's talk upstairs."

"Let's talk right here. Right now." He moved forward, dragging the chair from Nino's desk across the floor roughly. "You sit down."

Jun finally looked more angry than resigned. "Upstairs."

Sho had had enough. Of the lies and the deception and the misdirection. He grabbed Matsumoto by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him down into the chair. He was done letting the man gloss over the truth with a friendly cup of tea. "You don't get to be in control of this," he said. "The police were here tonight."

"I know. I had a feeling they'd come."

"Oh, you had a feeling, huh?"

Jun nodded, and his eyes were almost lifeless. "Takahashi knows." He inclined his head toward the safe. "Takahashi knows who I am, and Nino's gone now."

"And who is that exactly? Is it Matsumoto Jun?" he asked the man. "Or is it this Goda Takeshi the police are looking for as a murder suspect?"

"It's not any of your..."

He slammed his hand down on Nino's desk angrily. "Who the hell are you? Just tell me who you are!"

Matsumoto glared up at him. "I'm a dead man, alright? I don't exist. Those dog tags in there? Goda Takeshi? Well, he's dead. He died in the fucking war."

"You killed him?"

Matsumoto said nothing, clenching his jaw.

Sho was so angry, so lost that all he could think to do was shake him by the shoulders. "Tell me! For god's sake, why won't you just tell me? You know every last god damned thing about me, and everything I know about you is a lie! I told you everything because I trusted you. I told you everything because Nino trusted you! So why can't I know? Ever since I got here, people tell me nothing, or they tell me lies, and I'm sick of it!" He kicked the leg of the desk in frustration. "I'm part of this now, and I'm tired of you lying to my face!"

The silence continued, and Sho was about to walk away and go straight back to the police. But then Jun spoke up. His voice was different - the Jun who spoke to him every night, laughed and chatted with him was gone. Had that all been a facade?

"Goda Takeshi was me," Jun said, taking off his glasses and folding them up neatly before setting them on the desk. "And I was him. And he died."

"You seem to be breathing okay. You're a little more solid than any ghost I've read about in stories," Sho spat.

They stared each other down, Sho nearly out of breath and Jun so quiet he might not have been breathing at all. Sho realized that what he was asking was something Jun had been struggling to forget, to move on from. But he had to know. If they were going to figure out what had happened to Nino, they had to work together. They had to trust each other.

"I was just a sailor," Jun began, looking him straight in the eyes. "Nobody special at all. Been all over, since I'd been 19. And that was a long time at sea. I was hardly granted leave to go home, not once we got the Americans involved. They'd had me in China and Java and the Philippines already. But it was 1945, and they couldn't find anyone. I mean, look at me, I've got bad eyes. But they didn't care. 'Goda,' they said. 'Goda, you're meant for something better. Something only a chosen few can do.' It was obvious Japan was going to lose, so they picked me, a bunch of other guys, gave us the same speech about something only we could do, plucked us right off the ship and put us through pilot training."

"Usually took a long time, but it was a rush job. Americans were already in Okinawa. Kept us in Kagoshima, and they didn't tell us until the night before what the mission was going to be. I mean, we knew. We all fucking knew. But until that last day, they made it sound like we'd be doing regular bombing runs against the U.S. fleet. I didn't sleep then," Jun laughed, cold and bitter. "Hell, none of us did. Why sleep? In the morning, they had all the planes lined up. One, two, three, six, ten, twenty I don't know. They gave us a flag and a pistol and one last drink. Told us to tie on our headbands and to follow the lieutenant into the sky."

This was what Sho had asked for. He'd asked for Jun to tell him everything. When Sho had drudged up his own past, he'd stared at the carpet. Jun told him everything, and Jun didn't look away. Kamikaze, Sho realized. That was how the Allied press had described it. A suicide mission.

"I was already dead then, Sho-san. The second I got in that plane, Goda Takeshi was dead, and he was never coming back. You know they had school kids on the tarmac waving goodbye? It was supposed to be something beautiful, but I could hardly keep my hand still on the throttle. I watched them take off. Bunch of planes in shitty condition, that was all that was left, and what did it matter? I didn't know what to think. At that point, watching the others take off I didn't even know how to think any more."

It was clear to Sho, hearing Jun tell his story that he was back there. He was back in Kagoshima trying to fly his first and final mission. He watched tears pool in Jun's large, brown eyes, spilling over and down his cheeks, and Sho felt like the worst kind of man in the world for demanding he relive it.

"So I taxi down the runway, I do everything I trained for, and it's the shitty fucking plane that does me in, Sho-san. It's the plane. I get up enough speed, but I can't lift off. I watch the others go past me, off into the sky, and the kids are still on the tarmac watching. My plane's no good. I circle around, try again. I'm crying, I'm sobbing, and the thing just won't take off. Everyone else leaves, and I'm there, destroying the engine. I did everything right, and it's the plane. They flag me down, get me to stop, and they have to lift me out of the plane because I can't move."

"I woke up in the infirmary later, and the doctor told me nobody else had come back. They told me there'd be another mission, and they'd fix my plane. But I was already dead, Sho-san, I was dead. I had died, right there in that broken cockpit. I knew, laying in that hospital bed, that Goda Takeshi had gone off and died. I don't know who came out of that cockpit, but it wasn't the man those dog tags belonged to."

Sho sat down on the edge of Nino's desk. "I'm sorry, Jun. I...I didn't..."

"You want to know? Then shut up." He took a breath and continued, making Sho feel worse with each passing second for dragging it out of him. "Gave me a mental evaluation, cleared me again for duty. Discharged me from the base hospital. Left the base that night with some guys, got to the bathroom of the bar and left through the window like a fucking coward."

He'd deserted, Sho thought. Knowing the situation now from Jun's own lips, Sho was pretty damn sure he would have deserted too.

"Made my way to Tokyo from Kagoshima, and it took me the rest of the war to do it. Months, worrying they were going to come find me, drag me back, strap me right in that cockpit and make me die again. I was already dead, I guess it didn't matter, but I just didn't want to be in a plane ever again. Finally got to Tokyo, a nameless coward with a dead man's dog tags. I didn't know, but those guys I went out with that night must have known what I'd planned."

"Guess they were mad their friends had gone off on that suicide mission and crashed their planes like good boys. Guess they thought I was nothing but a coward. They found me, I don't know how, but they found me once the surrender came, and they were all discharged. It was here, in this bar, I was having a drink, and they found me. Three of them, bigger than me. They threw drinks in my face, spat on me, dragged me out into the alley."

"I deserved it, all of it, but somehow when you're getting the shit kicked out of you, the whole will to live thing kicks in. You were in that camp all that time, Sho, you didn't lose that instinct. So they broke a few of my ribs, and one of them pulled a knife. Back door to the bar opened suddenly, and it was exactly what I needed. Got the knife away, and I took them by surprise. One right in the neck, the other in the back. Third got away. I'm not proud. Not proud at all, but I thought then, so what? I'm dead too, even if it wasn't my blood pooling in that alley."

"Bar door opens again, and it's Nino. Of course, I didn't know who he was, but he came up to me, saw I was hurt, saw what I'd done. A normal man would have called the police. Nino just told me to come inside, brought me upstairs and tossed some bandages at me and said to get my ribs wrapped up, he'd take care of the rest."

Nino had been the one to open the bar door, Sho realized. Nino had opened that door and saved Jun's life, giving him that distraction he'd needed. The strange relationship, Jun's utter devotion to Nino was starting to become clearer.

"I did exactly what he said. I don't know the details, but Nino knew someone who got rid of the bodies. I suspect that was Takahashi. I didn't really know why Nino helped me. I was just some guy drinking cheap vodka who caused a fight to break out, but Nino didn't even hesitate," Jun explained, finally wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. "He did everything for me. Absolutely everything. Got me new papers, a new name."

"Job at the restaurant?" Sho asked quietly. "Or was that a lie, too?"

"No," Jun said, finally leaning back in the chair and looking far more relieved than Sho would have expected. But Sho felt like he understood - telling Jun his story before had fundamentally changed him too. "No, I do work at the restaurant, just not as often as you think I do."

"And where were you tonight? Where did the money come from?" Sho couldn't help but explain to Jun what the police had told him earlier that evening about Nino and the black market. The safe full of money was proof enough that he had been up to some kind of trouble, and the strange company he'd kept was even more evidence.

"Nino said, and this was before he was killed," Jun said, opening a desk drawer and pulling out an address book. It was a lot smaller than the one Nino had kept upstairs with Matsuyama Ken'ichi's contact information. "He said if anything ever happened to him, I had to go to a certain address every night and pick up some money that was owed to him. Otherwise it would just get to Takahashi. He never said what the money was from, the people who handed it to me never said what it was for, and I just put it in the safe here."

Sho shook his head. "But that makes no sense. You know that makes no sense, Jun. What good is a safe full of money if you're a dead man? I mean, it sounds to me like Nino knew Takahashi had it out for him. But to make you go out and close deals for him? That's a big risk, and what's more, you don't know where this money came from. You don't know what it cost to get it."

Jun shrugged, rubbing his face once more. "So?"

"What do you mean 'so'?" Sho grumbled. "That money? All that money? You're going to go out and keep getting money from people you don't know until there's no more to get? You didn't think anything was strange about this whole set-up?"

"What I think is irrelevant," Jun replied quietly. "What matters is that Nino asked me to do it. When he told me that, I asked him if his life was in danger. He said no. But then a week later he was killed. There's no way I'm letting Takahashi get to this safe. I'm the only person alive who knows the combination, well, aside from you it seems."

"But what's the money for?"

"It doesn't matter. Nino said..."

Sho let out a moan in irritation. "Is that your answer for everything then? Because Nino said so? Well, some news for you, Jun. I get that Nino was kind to you, I get that he risked a lot to help you, and I'm sorry I made you remember a lot of awful things. But Nino's not here any more. You can be your own person. If Takahashi's after you, open a bank account, put this cash there so he can't come here with a safe cracker and take it away."

Jun got out of the chair. "I'm going upstairs."

He followed at Jun's heels, shutting off the light and locking the door quickly. "Jun! Look now, you've got a lot of money here, the police are asking questions. Nino was in trouble!" he called up the stairs as he followed behind. "This money comes from illegal activity. What was he doing?"

"I don't know. I never asked."

Sho made it to the top of the stairs, slipping out of his shoes and leaving them beside Jun's. "Why not?"

Jun had thrown his coat onto the couch instead of hanging it up neatly like always. "It was Nino's business."

"You weren't curious? At all?"

Finally, Jun stopped just before heading down the hallway. He stood with his back to Sho, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. From the past and the guilt he'd been holding for so long. From Nino's loss and the burden of honoring his final requests, even at risk to himself. "What right did I have to ask him? He put me up here. Hell, he created me if you think about it. He found me and told me I'd been dealt a bad hand. He bandaged me up and gave me his spare room and told me to stay as long as I wanted. He gave me a second chance I didn't deserve."

"Why?" Sho asked. "Lots of people have had bad luck. All Nino had to do was open the front door of Bar Ryusei and find people who needed second chances. Why you?"

"He said," Jun answered, turning around to look at him, "Nino said that I reminded him of you."

It was a strange web that connected him to Jun, connected him to Nino who was no longer around but constantly present. Sho swallowed, unsure if he wanted to ask the question his mind was producing. It was too personal - he'd already learned every bit about Jun the man had shared. He'd read between the lines of Jun's behavior, his unshakeable loyalty to Nino even in death. Something more than mere friendship or gratitude, the type of feelings that Sho had denied and pushed down for so long. Sho could barely tolerate that part of himself - who was he to assume it about someone else?

"Did you...about Nino, did you feel..." He couldn't finish. Couldn't ask another man a question like that.

He didn't have the guts to ask if another man was as queer as he was.

Jun seemed to anticipate the question, though. Sho wondered if they really had been alike in Nino's eyes. "It wasn't that way," Jun admitted. "I don't know, maybe it was on my end. I was never really sure. I'm still not. I know Nino wasn't...I just know that if Nino asked something of me, there was no hesitation. I'd do anything for him. You can call me stupid for it, but you just can't understand what he did for me."

"No," Sho decided. "I suppose I never could." But Sho wasn't sure why Jun's answer seemed to please him so much. Maybe it was the confirmation that Jun was like him. Was that why they'd connected so easily, conversed so plainly, shared one another's darkest experiences?

Jun's features softened, as though the man who had sat beside him all night talking this past week with him had finally resurfaced. "You've had a long day, Sho-san. You should go to bed."

"What about you?" he asked. After all that, Jun was the one worried, and he felt ashamed. "What about the tea?"

"I don't think I have much use for it tonight," Jun replied. "I think I've spoken more tonight than I have in my entire life."

"Thank you. For telling me, I mean. I'm really sorry for forcing all of that out of you, I was just..."

"In the dark," Jun finished for him. "Lost, always a step behind. It's something I don't like either. I like knowing the full story. It hurt not to be able to tell you, even if we haven't been acquainted so long. It's just not much of a conversation starter."

Silence hung between them then. Jun had killed two men, it was true, but it was in self defense. Sho knew if he'd been in a similar situation, fighting for his life, that he might have made a similar judgment.

"I'd better get to sleep then," Sho said, ending the awkward quiet to walk past Jun.

Sho washed up and changed to pajamas. When he left the bathroom and headed for the guest room, Jun was nowhere in the apartment. Sho supposed that he was probably tidying up the storage room downstairs, ensuring that he was following Nino's wishes to the letter.

Tomorrow would be another difficult day, but he had the feeling that now he and Jun had learned everything there was to know about one another. No more secrets, no more lies.


	5. Chapter 5

He woke uneasily, and it wasn't quite sunrise. Maybe he'd just grown so accustomed to Jun waking him for tea that his body had risen of its own accord. He got up as he usually did anyhow, noticing in the darkness that the other futon wasn't occupied. He couldn't hear Jun, and the first feeling that hit was panic, like a bucket of ice water had suddenly been dumped on him.

"Jun?" he asked the quiet room uselessly. He hadn't gone out again, had he? Or was he still downstairs? All he knew in his half-awake state was Jun. He wanted to see Jun. He needed to see him. It was wrong not to hear the other man's breathing beside him. All he wanted at that exact moment in time was Jun.

Sho pulled the door open hurriedly, bare feet slapping the wood floor as he hurried down the hallway. The couch and loveseat were empty, worrying Sho all the more. He moved in a daze from the living room, wondering if he should put on his shoes and go downstairs. The physical need for Jun's closeness was almost overwhelming, and now after sleeping a few hours with Jun's terrible past so fresh in his mind, he only wanted to be near him. He'd denied it about himself for years, hated himself for it. He'd poured all his energy into his studies or his work, and when he'd been locked away in Manzanar, he'd done his best to ignore the urges.

But being here, finding that instant connection with Jun, had come up so fast and grabbed hold of him that he'd had no time to put a barrier in place. He'd planned for Nino, a friend, to share his time and his stories with, and he'd been caught unprepared. Jun had managed to sneak in and curl around that part of Sho he'd tried so hard to ignore. Jun with his tea and his patience. Jun and his teasing. Jun and his horrible past. Jun the creation Nino had formed and seemingly left behind so Sho would be looked after.

He paused in the kitchen doorway, finally spying Jun in one of the chairs. He was slumped forward, sleeping with his head resting atop his folded arms. Why had he fallen asleep here? In that moment, watching Jun sleep as the radiators made their gentle rattle struck Sho as something he would never be able to forget. Maybe he'd come to Japan for work. Maybe he'd come to Japan to solve the mystery of Nino's death. Or maybe he'd struggled so long with who he was just so right then, right in that moment, he could find Jun in the kitchen and know there was no point in lying to himself any longer.

He approached slowly, kneeling down on the floor beside Jun in the chair. His hand moved impulsively, brushing a lock of Jun's hair from his brow. His fingers stilled when Jun opened his eyes. Sho didn't know what to do. It had always been women, and he'd always let them take what they wanted, just so they'd think he was a normal man. He didn't know how to handle this, even after taking this first leap.

Panic continued to bubble inside of him as Jun met his eyes, stared at him thanks to the faint light coming from outside. Jun was questioning with those eyes, searching and wondering if Sho knew what he was doing, what he was expecting. All Sho could do was listen to his heart pound and learn that up close, Jun was everything he wanted. The large eyes with long, dark lashes. His full lips and the small marks above and below. Sho took it all in, nearly drowning in uncertainty.

"You know about me," Jun said, his voice puncturing the silence. "I've told you what I've done, what kind of person I am."

"Yes."

"It doesn't bother you?"

No, Sho thought. It didn't. If anything, knowing who Jun really was and what he had faced only spurred him on, reassuring him that this was exactly what he needed. They'd both lost the one person who'd connected them, and between the two of them, the future remained so uncertain. But here and now, he wanted to know what it would feel like to touch Jun and be touched by him in return.

He left Jun's question to hang there and brought himself off his knees, standing up and waiting. The chair scraped across the tile, and Jun was there in an instant, hands holding Sho's face as he brought their lips together. Sho couldn't help groaning, realizing that the years of lying had not been worth it. This didn't feel strange or wrong or like weakness - it felt like strength and comfort and like finding a place to belong.

Jun was sleepy too, and their mouths joined lazily, lips breaking apart and coming together with long breaths and quiet gasps of pleasure in between. He shut his eyes tight, feeling Jun's hands move to bunch in his hair, fingers grasping strands and tightening his grip. Sho deepened their kiss, parting his lips and allowing their tongues to meet. It was languid and hesitant, as if they were both still in a state of dreaming, like the world wasn't yet their own again.

The world returned seconds later when Jun backed them up, pushing Sho against the kitchen counter behind them. The pain was momentary, and the sudden jolt only made him aware of Jun's growing intent in his slacks. He hadn't bothered to change out of them earlier, and the thin cotton of Sho's pajamas did little to hide his own interest. He wanted to touch Jun, and he wrapped his hands around Jun's back, slipping beneath Jun's shirt to find his spine.

Jun's skin was warm to the touch, smooth as Sho allowed himself to remain trapped between the counter top and Jun himself. Jun arched against him with a sudden moan, and the friction caused by Jun's erection brushing his own nearly made Sho lose it entirely. He'd never known sensations like this before, not with any girlfriend he'd had over the years. Certainly not in stolen moments by himself. This was different. This wasn't fucking to prove he was a man, fondling a breast because it was what all the other guys in school or at work did with their girlfriends.

This was something Sho wanted to do of his own volition. He moved his hands to the front, breaking contact with Jun's mouth to move to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons from top to bottom as Jun watched him. He slid the shirt from Jun's shoulders, letting Jun himself tug on the sleeves and send the shirt to the floor. Sho leaned forward, pressing his mouth to the hollow of Jun's throat before dragging his lips lazily to his collarbone, his shoulder, tasting and claiming skin with his mouth and his teeth.

Jun only grew impatient, pushing Sho back so he could hastily pull Sho's pajama top open. The garment joined Jun's on the floor. The slender fingers that had patiently held out his tea cup for all those nights slid down Sho's abdomen, not even pausing at the waistband of his pajama bottoms. When Jun's hand was finally around him, firm and demanding, Sho moaned Jun's name.

"Touch me," he heard himself say, almost as though he'd disconnected from himself and only knew the sensation of Jun's hand jerking him in his pants. He tried desperately to find Jun's lips again, to let his pleasured utterances be lost in Jun's mouth. But Jun was exacting, and this was only allowed to go the way he wanted.

"Not here," Jun murmured, slowing his movements until finally withdrawing his hand from Sho's pants. But he held out that hand, and Sho took it. There was no question or hesitation. They barely made it to the sofa, Jun undoing the buckle of his belt. Sho moved to the cushions and slid out of his pajamas, lying on his back until Jun was above him. Their mouths met, and Jun balanced over him, positioning himself just right. Sho felt Jun's cock brush against his own, and he shuddered at the feeling of it.

Sho could only think to move, turning them onto their sides so Jun's back was pressed against the cushions. He reached between them, feeling his own hardness, then Jun's. He lost himself in the sound of Jun's panting, Jun's need. It was clumsy and all too new to him, but somehow they found their way. His hand on Jun, and Jun's on him. Their faces were close, gasps and groans interspersed with brief brushes of their mouths. He focused on Jun, on the way his breath hitched with each movement of Sho's hand.

Their pace increased, grew more erratic as they both gave up any semblance of concentration. It was nothing but breaths until Jun cried his name. It was all he could take. It was the first time, and Sho couldn't hold back. "Jun," he warned him. "Oh Jun..." He could feel himself come, could feel his release as it hit against Jun's fingers and his own belly. He quickened his own pace, moving his hand over Jun's erection as fast as he could. Jun's hand, sticky and shaking, soon helped Sho along. He felt Jun's whole body tense, and he knew the other man was close.

His lips found the side of Jun's face. "Come for me," he demanded, and that was all it took. Jun arched up into Sho's palm with a groan, coming hard. He pressed a kiss to Jun's temple, another to his forehead, tasting sweat as they both breathed in and out heavily, waiting for their bodies to come back down.

\--

"Sho."

He didn't want to move, but Jun was shaking his shoulder roughly. This wasn't affection, not like they'd shared in the middle of the night. But that definitely hadn't been a dream. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times and recalling that after he and Jun had hastily tidied up the sofa, they'd returned to the guest room and collapsed. He'd fallen into a peaceful sleep with Jun beside him, and he hadn't minded the lack of space. It had been perfect.

"Sho, wake up."

He looked up, seeing Jun was already dressed and in his coat. "Hey," he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He wanted to pull Jun back down, forget everything, learn his body in the daylight since it was surely late morning by now. But he could tell from Jun's expression that now wasn't the time.

"There's something going on outside," Jun said quietly. "Police are here."

At the word 'police,' Sho moved, kicking off the blanket. He realized soon enough that he was still naked, but Jun only turned his head away. He supposed it was more out of the urgency of the situation rather than modesty now. He'd left his underwear in the living room with his pajamas, so he hastily pulled the blanket from the floor, wrapping it around himself as he went to the window. Jun stayed back.

He pulled the curtains aside to see a small, hushed crowd gathered and a few beat cops keeping them from moving past the area they'd cordoned off with a thin rope. His eyes moved from the crowd to the building the police were entering - it was Tanaka the tailor's shop. Fuck.

"No," Sho muttered, immediately hurrying to his bag to find some clothes to pull on.

"If the police are here, something's happened."

"I promised him," Sho said, feeling a wave of panic descend on him. They'd gotten to him. Why hadn't he insisted on going to the police sooner? He explained everything to Jun about his conversation with Tanaka, about the third man at the scene of Nino's death. "I promised him that he could go to the police with me, and he wouldn't have to give his name. I promised everything would be okay."

Jun crouched down, helping him to pull out clean slacks and a shirt, another pair of socks, underwear, and an undershirt. "I'm going to head out the back. I'm sorry..."

"No, it's fine," Sho said. If the police were in the neighborhood, it was best that Jun disappeared for a while, especially if they came around asking questions. He pulled on his socks and pants, getting to his feet. "Please be careful."

Jun kissed him, lingering for a moment before he forced them apart again. Sho was torn between wanting Jun at his side and wanting Jun as far away and safe as he could get. "I'll be fine. I'll take the train to the other side of the city, wander around, get lost in the crowds."

"Not too lost," Sho requested, remembering Jun's story. He'd been attacked the previous year by three men - one of them had survived. It was the only way the police would have thought to pursue Goda Takeshi as a murder suspect. The man might still be out there, looking for revenge. It wouldn't be impossible for Takahashi Katsumi to have found him. "We'll meet back here. Tonight."

"Restaurant's closed. I'll try and make my way back by 9:00." Jun headed for the door, hesitating in the entryway. "What will you do?

He buttoned up his shirt. "If something's happened to Tanaka-san, I'll go with the police. I'll explain everything he told me about the third person who was there."

Jun nodded. "You be careful, too." He listened to Jun's footsteps disappear down the hall and eventually heard the sound of the downstairs door opening and closing. He was alone.

Sho realized that Jun was right. The both of them had targets on their backs now. How simple it all had been when he'd arrived. All he'd had to do was observe and write. Now he was a player. Now he was involved in something far greater than his own life.

Once he was dressed and had run a comb through his hair and washed up a bit, he grabbed his coat and headed downstairs. He exited through Bar Ryusei's front door to find the beginning of the roped off area. The weather had changed overnight from winter chill to rain. The pavement was soaked, and water still dripped from the awnings of the other shops. A misty drizzle continued on, obscuring the sunlight and casting the sky and Tokyo itself in a muted gray. The crowd gathered had only gotten larger and were muttering amongst themselves in harsh whispers.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, finding a man he'd recognized from the neighborhood standing under a black umbrella. It was the man from around the corner who operated a small fruit shop. There'd been very little to distribute and few had the money for such luxuries, but he opened his shop every day. "I'm sorry, but do you know what's happened here?"

The man nodded gravely. "They say Tanaka-san hanged himself, right there in his shop. I suppose his business was going under. Can't say I blame him."

That wasn't possible, Sho thought. Hadn't Tanaka-san agreed to go with him? And he'd wanted nothing more than to be with his wife, taking care of her. Guilt crept up on Sho, squeezing until his mouth was dry and his stomach was twisted in knots, and he couldn't even manage a thank you to the fruit seller. He made his way through the crowd, possessed by an urgent need to see it for himself, to see what Takahashi Katsumi or his cronies had done to the poor man.

A police officer stopped him at the ropes. "I'm sorry, sir. You can't go in there."

"I knew him," Sho insisted, voice unsteady and broken as though he had gravel down his throat. "I knew Tanaka-san."

"And so did many in the neighborhood," the officer said, gently pressing on Sho's shoulder with his white-gloved hand. "Please step back."

He tried to see inside, looking desperately around the officer's shoulder. The view from the street that had enabled Tanaka-san or his wife to see that third man was now reversed - Sho was looking from the street to see inside the tailor's shop. He couldn't see a noose, but why would Tanaka-san hang himself in the shop? Why not in his home? Why would he have left his shop door unlocked for someone to get inside and find him?

None of it made any sense unless his suicide had been staged. Takahashi Katsumi had wanted him to see this. He'd wanted to make an example of him - anyone who'd seen the third man at Nino's death would see the same fate. This was all on Sho - he'd forced Tanaka-san to stay in Tokyo, to come and open his shop one last time. Tanaka's murder was all his fault.

The door to the shop opened, and Sho saw Aiba emerge. Their eyes met, and where Officer Aiba before had been fairly friendly, he was at a crime scene now and looking for a suspect or witnesses, those who might have last been in contact with Tanaka. Sho was pretty damn sure he'd been one of the last to see Tanaka-san alive, and anyone in the neighborhood might have seen him in the shop the previous afternoon. Aiba's kind eyes were clouded with suspicion, and Sho backed away from the ropes.

If Aiba asked him anything, maybe he'd ask Sho where he'd been the previous night. Of course, the truth was that he'd been with Jun. If Sho had been with Jun the night before, Aiba would ask, maybe Jun had heard something in Tanaka's shop. The police would want to talk to Jun - then they'd discover who Jun really was. Jun who was Goda Takeshi, a prime suspect in a double murder. No, he couldn't incriminate Jun. And if he lied to the police, there was no way he could ask them to look into Nino's murder. But at the same time, Aiba was the only person he could tell. Maybe Aiba was the only one who'd believe him.

"Sakurai-san?"

The truth about Jun or the truth about Nino - what was more important? Protecting Jun or seeing Nino's killers brought to justice? He didn't know. Damn it, he couldn't make that choice! He moved back, bumping against the other people in the crowd. They complained, moved aside, grumbled about rudeness.

"Sakurai-san, wait!" Aiba called, ducking under the rope.

All he could think to do was get away. He had to think this through, had to come up with something. He could say he was home alone. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want Jun to be questioned. But if he'd been alone, right next door, why hadn't he heard a struggle? And truthfully, he hadn't heard anything. He'd slept soundly with Jun beside him.

He turned, blinking rain from his eyes as he made his way to the rear of the crowd. It was then that he saw the car pull up just past Bar Ryusei, parking in front of the closed store. It was the Aston Martin. Takahashi Katsumi's car.

And Sho ran, crossing the street and heading east to the alleyway, to the narrow passages and back streets that snaked their way all through Kagurazaka. Think, he told himself. Sakurai, you need to think clearly. He could hear footsteps behind him, and he quickened his pace. He couldn't look back. He knew who it was, or at least who they were employed by. Officer Aiba would have kept calling his name - the people following now wouldn't make themselves known.

He hurried, knocking down trash bins, scaring off some hungry cats trying to find themselves a meal. The shrine - the Akagi Shrine. They wouldn't dare follow him. Sho had been to the shrine a few times already since arriving; he'd even written a story about the people who'd come to pray faithfully, tossing in whatever coins they could spare. No, Takahashi wouldn't get him there.

He'd turn at the next passageway, find his way back. He made his way around the corner and ran right into another person. Before he could apologize, there were more people and a cloth bag. Before he could cry out, a solid punch to his gut dropped him to his knees, wheezing. His vision went dark as the bag was lowered over his head.

He could hear a car running, and the noise grew louder as the men dragged him over to it. Was it the Aston Martin? He wanted to cry out, wanted to scream for help, but he was out of breath from running and the blow to his stomach had taken the remaining air away. He was shoved into the car roughly, sandwiched between two people who were larger and stronger than he was.

This was it, Sho thought. Takahashi Katsumi was going to make him disappear.

\--

He didn't know where they'd brought him. It was dark within the bag, and the car had made several turns as the rain picked up and pounded the windshield. The car had eventually pulled off somewhere, and they'd dragged him out again. He felt what could only be a gun barrel against his back as he was brought inside a building. He was brought down a hallway and finally thrown into a room and left alone.

They'd left the bag on his head, but Sho removed it with trembling hands. It was dark. The room was small, no larger than the bathroom in Nino's apartment, with a cold concrete floor and no windows. He fumbled along the wall and found it to be concrete too. The door was locked, and there was no light switch or chain anywhere. It wouldn't matter if he shouted - they'd brought him here, and he doubted anyone would be coming to help him.

He waited for them to come interrogate him. Or to kill him. He worried about Jun, hoping the other man had managed to get out of the neighborhood, get some place where he could stay. He worried about Jun coming home at 9:00, discovering that Sho was missing. Would he figure it out? Would he know that Sho had been taken?

Sho lost track of time, the growling of his stomach the only sign that hours were passing him by in the small room by himself. His anxiety grew - how long would they leave him here? Why didn't they just kill him? If Takahashi had all those political allies, if Matsuyama Ken'ichi was with Foreign Affairs, why didn't they just have Sho kicked out of the country? They couldn't, Sho realized. He was still a Japanese citizen.

The hours went on, and his anxiety grew until he finally heard hushed voices in the hallway. He crawled across the floor, putting his ear to the door. The voices were difficult to make out, but there was no mistaking one of them.

"...foolish to do this," Takahashi Katsumi was arguing. "I can make it quick. He'll go to the police now, you know he will."

The other person responded to Takahashi, but in whispers that Sho could barely understand. He didn't think it was Matsuyama Ken'ichi. Who could it be? His pulse was rushing. Maybe it was the third man at the scene of the murder. Maybe he was the orchestrator of all of it - the black market dealings, Nino's murder, Tanaka's murder, the police's knowledge of Goda Takeshi. Who was he? Some big name in government? How high did it go?

"...just need to scare him off," the person whispered, and Sho strained his ears. "...enough for now." The third person wanted Sho to live? So this had all been a tactic to mess with him, to get him to stop looking into the murder? It appeared that this person didn't know Sho as well as he thought. Takahashi had the right idea, Sho thought darkly.

"I think you're making a mistake," Takahashi warned him.

Sho didn't hear the other man speak again. The minutes ticked on, and Sho wondered what they were going to do with him. He finally got his answer when the door opened sometime later, and the men reentered the room. They put the bag back over his head again and dragged him out. Sho didn't bother protesting - he was still alive. They hadn't killed him. But this was almost worse. They were going to let him go, and all he could think to do was put himself right back in harm's way. He had to talk to the police.

He had no idea of the time, but the rain had stopped when they put him back into a car. This one was different. The interior smelled differently, the seats were harder. Move him in one car, return him in another. The journey in the car was longer this time, and Sho wondered where they'd bring him. To the train station so he could make his way back to Yokohama and buy his way back across the ocean? Did they think he'd give up so easily? Did they think he'd turn tail and flee?

No, Sho knew. He'd been running for so much of his life that he was determined to stay the course, see this thing through to the end. Nino had taught him that. Nino had always looked for the next big thing, the next way to advance himself. Sho supposed that in these thirteen years, it had gotten him into trouble. But Nino had always moved forward.

The men brought him into another building, through a rear entrance if he had to guess. He could hear voices off in the distance. Well, he wasn't being isolated again. They were going to drop him off, let him decide what his next steps were. Sho was fairly certain that his next move was going to get him killed, but after the hours in that room waiting for them to come and put a bullet between his eyes, he'd reached an odd sort of clarity. He wondered if Jun, coming out of the cockpit of that plane, had ever had a similar realization.

He hadn't died. He was supposed to have, but he'd survived. How would he live on the borrowed time he'd been granted?

They'd left him alone, and he took the cloth bag from his head again. He tossed it aside and found himself in a classroom, a junior high school if he had to guess based on the size of the desks. They'd put him in the rear of the classroom, and he stood to discover it was dark outside already. How late could it be?

He was on the second floor, and he slid open the classroom door. He knew he probably looked disheveled and exhausted, but he didn't care, finding his way to the staircase. The voices were coming from downstairs. What he didn't expect to see at the bottom of the stairs was Officer Ohno.

"Oh!" the man said in surprise. "Sakurai-san, you did come!"

"I did?"

The officer started walking off as though he expected Sho to walk with him. "Aiba-kun tried to tell you this morning, but he said you seemed upset and hurried off. Well, with what happened to Tanaka-san, I guess I can't blame you."

Sho nodded. Aiba hadn't really been trying to confront him? "Right, I saw Aiba-san this morning."

"Well, he left a note for you at the bar, so you must have found it because here you are. And don't worry, we're a pretty informal bunch."

"Here I am," Sho replied, wondering just why the hell he was now at a junior high school with Officer Ohno. He wanted to pull the man aside, ask if they could go to the station. Instead the man slid open a classroom door to reveal several occupied desks. Men, women, all sitting quietly, and their eyes turned to Sho immediately. He saw Aiba sitting in the front row, his long legs looking almost comical under the desk more suited to someone twelve or thirteen years old.

"He did manage to make it. Ladies and gentlemen, from the Los Angeles Times, Sakurai Sho."

Their quiet applause seemed almost absurd, and Ohno gestured for him to stand at the instructor's podium while he took a seat beside Aiba. What was this? Who were these people? He stood there, trying to gather his thoughts while the people simply stared at him. What was he supposed to say?

Aiba seemed to notice his distress, and he turned in his seat. "Does anyone have any questions for Sakurai-san? He's only been back in Tokyo a short time, but I'm sure he's got a perspective that a lot of us don't have." Aiba turned back and gave him an encouraging smile. "Don't be frightened, we don't bite."

The crowd chuckled softly, and Sho remembered. The first time he'd met with Aiba, that night in the police car with the busted heater. Aiba had said that he and a few other folks in the community held discussions. Maybe this was that meeting they'd been talking about. All eyes were still on him, growing impatient.

"Sakurai-san?" came a man's voice from the second row. He was older with glasses and a bow tie. "I'm Ikeda Tatsuya. I own a department store in Marunouchi. I was wondering if you could tell us about the camps in America. My son...he...well, he doesn't write often. He moved away sometime ago, but they say that Japanese were being put into camps."

He saw the desperation in the old man's eyes. He wanted answers that Sho didn't really want to give. "Ikeda-san, nice to meet you. Well, in 1942 there was a decision made to put everyone along the west coast into relocation centers..."

"But my son, he was in a place called Texas. He was a student, an engineering student..."

Sho could feel everyone's eyes, asking, demanding. Wanting answers from him. He'd been locked in darkness all day, and Takahashi Katsumi had had him conveniently dropped off in time for this strange interrogation. "Texas," Sho stuttered, "well, I don't know if they were moving anyone from there..."

"Don't you know?" a woman sitting to Aiba's other side asked. "How many people were moved? Do you think MacArthur's people are going to put us in camps?"

"The relocation centers are closed," Sho insisted. "They shut them down last year, let everyone out..."

"I heard that Stalin has camps for anyone who disagrees with him," another old man interrupted. "You don't think the Americans would do anything like that here, would they? They destroyed our cities, Sakurai-san. Nagasaki and Hiroshima, they're gone!"

Sho raised a hand. "Hold on, hold on, the Americans aren't going to bomb anything else. The war is over."

"They're not going to cut off our food, are they?" another voice came. "It's already hard enough to get food and medicine!"

"General MacArthur, what type of man is he? What is your newspaper saying about him? About us?"

"Sakurai-san, what about my son? What did they do in those camps?"

"They won't punish us any more, will they? I lost three sons. Two in Manchukuo, one in the Pacific," a woman shouted. "I have nothing else to give them!"

"Wait," Sho begged them, "please..."

Aiba got out of his seat and tried to get the room to calm down. "Sakurai-san didn't come here so you could complain and ask him things he can't answer! Please, let's remain civil!" Ohno moved over to try and calm the shouting woman, kneeling down and trying to talk to her quietly.

"I'm sorry," Sho said, seeing their faces turn hostile. They didn't consider him Japanese. They just thought of him as one of the people occupying their country, telling them what to do. "I'm sorry, I don't know..."

"Sakurai-san?"

He looked up to see a person in the back row stand up. Sho hadn't seen him at first since he'd been so overwhelmed when he arrived, but the man wore a crisp, well-tailored suit just as he had on their first meeting. Had it only been yesterday?

The sound of Matsuyama Ken'ichi's voice was enough to silence everyone else in the room. "Sakurai-san, I do thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to come address us. We're just concerned citizens, and I do apologize. My name is Matsuyama Ken'ichi, I work for the Cabinet minister for Foreign Affairs, but I'm a citizen with questions the same as anyone else here."

Aiba moved over, grabbing hold of Sho's arm to steady him on his feet. "Sakurai-san, are you okay?"

Matsuyama smiled, the smile of a bureaucrat. Takahashi had a man everywhere. Who knew how long Matsuyama had been sent as a public face to meetings like these, undoubtedly reporting back about what they'd discussed. "Sakurai-san, if you don't mind, I have a question about the work you've been doing here."

Sho didn't want to answer, but at the very least, nobody was asking him if he knew where their son was. "Go ahead."

"Before you arrived, Officer Ohno was telling us that you're writing newspaper articles to send back to America about the situation here in Tokyo. I was just curious about what you've discovered." Matsuyama had full command of the room. "As an outsider to our country."

Now was the moment, Sho realized. He could give in and stay quiet, forgetting what had happened to Nino. It was the safest course. He could simply accept that Nino had gotten in over his head, and there was nothing Sho could do to fix that.

Or he could fight them.

"You know, Matsuyama-san, and thank you for the question," he said, gathering his thoughts. Matsuyama waited, face unchanging. "Being back in Tokyo after so many years has been invigorating. Seeing all that I've seen, looking at how everyone's trying their best, it's really been quite the experience. But you see, I don't know how much of my writing will really get published. I don't know how receptive the American newspaper audience is. No matter how sympathetic I am, no matter how many sad stories I have to relate, they may not get published."

"I don't suppose you know this, hell, I'm only learning it about myself," he continued. "But there's only so many sad articles you can write, only so many times you can boil down the human experience into 300 words for the back pages of an American newspaper. You see, I want something more than that, and being in Tokyo has changed me. I'm actually thinking about writing a novel."

"A novel?" Matsuyama asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh yes, I'm still plotting it out, jotting things down," Sho said, feeling more and more power gravitate from Matsuyama to himself. He supposed having a policeman at his side helped. "It's going to be a murder story, inspired by actual facts. I'm still kicking around the title, but I was thinking The Third Man. What do you think? Do you like true crime stories, Matsuyama-san?"

There it was, Sho thought. He'd laid the threat right on the table in front of two Tokyo police and a room full of citizens. He'd said right to Matsuyama, "I know what you did. Soon they'll know too."

He could see the man desperately trying to keep his smile intact. "I see a bit too much of the truth here in Tokyo every day, Sakurai-san. I'm not sure the general public would be terribly interested."

Sho saw Matsuyama make the slightest signal, tapping his finger against his leg. It brought two other men in the back row in suits to their feet. If Sho had to guess, they very well could have been the men who'd abducted him earlier that day.

"Aiba-san," Sho whispered to the man at his side. "Will you take me to the police station right away?"

Aiba was no fool, and Sho could see that the two men accompanying Matsuyama in the back were not mere concerned citizens. Sho felt Aiba's grip tighten at his elbow. "Well, everyone, as we know, Sakurai-san is a busy man. He must be going. Thank you everyone for coming tonight, many apologies for the shortness of our meeting..."

Chaos seemed to erupt at once. The people who'd questioned Sho earlier got to their feet, demanding that Sho stay and answer their questions. Officer Ohno was with them immediately, walking just ahead of Sho and Aiba to slide open the front classroom door, leaving the noisy room of distressed, confused citizens behind.

"Matsuyama, he's one of them," Sho insisted as Aiba ushered him towards the school entrance. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing no sign of the bureaucrat, but the two suspicious men were following them. "They kidnapped me earlier today, tried to scare me into keeping my mouth shut."

"We know," Aiba said. "We know about Matsuyama."

Ohno held the door open, allowing Aiba and Sho to hurry off to the car which was parked just at the bottom of the steps in the school's circular drive. Ohno remained in the doorway as Aiba got the car going. He watched the two men approach, and Ohno speaking to them.

"We've got some things to tell you, Sakurai-san," Aiba said, starting the car.

"Oh yeah?" Sho asked. "Like what?"

Aiba looked embarrassed. "We should have been honest with you from the beginning. About Ninomiya-san."

"Well, I'm all ears," Sho said unhappily as Ohno joined them in the car.

"They're not going to be stupid enough to follow us back to the station," Ohno said. "Let's go."

\--

He found himself back in the same interrogation room he'd been in just over a week earlier. They'd given him a cup of coffee, and once he explained how he'd been abducted and locked away for most of the day, Aiba insisted that Sho eat the onigiri his wife had prepared for his own dinner.

Once Sho took a bite though, he didn't feel so guilty about eating the officer's meal. He and Ohno let Sho eat, finally returning to the room with a few file folders and serious expressions. He explained everything that had happened the previous day about his meeting with Tanaka, and his shorter meeting with Matsuyama. He told them about the third man at the scene of the crime, and the possibility that that person had orchestrated his kidnapping.

Ohno and Aiba exchanged a look. Finally, Ohno opened up the file he'd brought in. "Now officially, you have no right to see this. It's part of our ongoing investigation into your friend."

"But I think given the circumstances and all you've related to us, it's only fair," Aiba said gently. It seemed as though Aiba was perpetually playing the good cop, allowing his superior to remain so aloof the rest of the time.

Ohno took out the top document. "Now we told you we've been looking into Ninomiya as a black market profiteer. What we didn't disclose earlier is exactly what he'd been doing."

Aiba slid the document across the table. "Do you know about penicillin, Sakurai-san?"

"It's fairly new, right?" Sho examined the paper. It was an inventory sheet from a military hospital, listing the disappearance of several life-saving antibiotics like penicillin. Nino, he thought sadly. Nino wasn't just finding watches and money now. He'd changed - he was taking things that were vital for people's survival.

Ohno slid some photographs across the table. "Your friend Ninomiya," he said, gesturing to a man in the photograph. It had been thirteen years, but not that much had changed. Nino's face remained youthful despite his twenty-seven years, and he was standing in the photograph beside Takahashi Katsumi. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and the two of them were standing outside a warehouse. "This was about a month ago. We think this is one of the storage facilities for their operation, but of course, we haven't been granted clearance to investigate yet."

"Takahashi knows some powerful people," Aiba said with a sigh.

"We're positive they're diluting it, too," Ohno continued. "Weakening the dosages before selling them to desperate folks, clinics, the like."

"He wasn't just stealing it," Sho realized. What Nino had done before, as kids - that had been wrong. Maximizing his profits by selling things he hadn't obtained fairly. But this, Sho thought, this was too much. How could Nino have done something like that?

"It was hurting people, Sakurai-san," Aiba said. "People would pay a hefty amount for this diluted medicine. Medicine that, if in its original form, would easily stave off an infection. The stuff Ninomiya and Takahashi sold was no better than injecting someone with sugar water."

He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to think the boy he'd grown up with could have done something so terrible, so selfish. But then he remembered Jun coming home with that bag and the stacks of money in Nino's safe. Proof positive that whatever illegal activities Nino had been doing were making him plenty even after his death.

"And you're sure Ninomiya was involved?" he asked, even knowing that the truth being revealed would be difficult to forget. "You're sure he's not just a pawn of Takahashi's?"

Ohno took the photos and papers back, hiding Nino's clever eyes and shadowy exploits within the folder once more. "We're sure. We've got more photos than these. We've got witnesses stepping forward, folks at the hospital. And there was a disappearance too, one of the staff vanished just over a week ago. Maybe he'd figured out why his inventory was wandering off. Takahashi can get to anyone."

"So what do I do? If Nino did some terrible things, then that was on his conscience," Sho decided. What would he tell Jun? How could he tell Jun that those stacks of bills he was putting in Nino's safe were nothing but blood money? "How can we find out about the third person at the scene of the accident? Surely that must be the ringleader."

"We have no evidence of anyone else that high up in Ninomiya's organization. As far as we've been able to uncover, it's Takahashi and Ninomiya. Their friend Matsuyama pulls plenty of strings for them, makes sure the Americans don't poke their noses in," Ohno said.

Then who the hell had Tanaka seen? Now that the man was dead, Sho was more certain than ever that there'd been another person at the scene, and Takahashi and Matsuyama had conspired with that person to kill Nino. Now that Sho knew how much money their operation was making them, he could understand why cutting one of the conspirators out would maximize their own take. But who could it be?

"I swear to you, Nino was murdered. Someone else on that street had to have seen it, but they're too afraid to speak up," Sho told them. "Can't you question people?"

Aiba stood up. "Sakurai-san, there's not much more we can do. If your friend died in an accident or someone pushed him, it's not going to matter to our superiors in the end, and I'm sorry. The fact of the matter is that he's dead, the ringleader of a crime syndicate is dead, and to our bosses that's a positive result."

"And with what you've told us today," Ohno continued, getting up and gathering his materials. "We recommend you go back to America. For your own good."

"What? But I haven't..."

Aiba caught him by the arm and started escorting him out. "They've kidnapped you, threatened your life. There's not much else you can do here, and Ohno-san and I don't want to see someone else lose their life so needlessly. Will you at least think about it?"

Even if his life was in danger, he wasn't so sure he wanted to leave Tokyo yet. If his editor caught word of what he'd gotten involved in, the sensational headlines would really pull in readers. His editor would want him to stay. And Sho didn't just have his work. What about Jun? What did that mean to him? What could it mean if he stayed? They could look out for one another.

Ohno opened the door. "I don't suppose you have anything to tell us about Goda Takeshi yet?"

Sho looked at the officer, his calm face and tired eyes. The man probably knew that Goda Takeshi was indeed the man living over Bar Ryusei, but he was patiently waiting for confirmation. Aiba and Ohno had been nothing but kind to him, but he couldn't do it.

"No," Sho said. "I don't."

"Very well," Ohno replied. "Aiba-chan, see that he makes it home safely."

"Can do, boss."

Aiba said very little on the drive back. There was little else to be said. Sho's childhood friend had been a criminal, and Sho's life remained in danger every minute longer he stayed in Tokyo. But he almost didn't care - he was late, and he needed to get back to Bar Ryusei.

It was after 11 pm when Sho unlocked the back door and headed upstairs. Jun heard him, and Sho was nearly sent tumbling down the steps from the force of Jun colliding with him. Jun's mouth was on his immediately, rough and desperate, his hands grasping at the lapels of Sho's coat. He had barely stumbled out of his shoes before Jun was pulling him to the rear bedroom.

"I waited," Jun said once they were there. "God, I waited. I almost went out looking for you."

He wanted to tell Jun everything. About being taken away by Takahashi, about the long hours he'd spent in that room waiting to be killed, about the meeting at the junior high school and what Aiba and Ohno had told him about Nino's true nature. But all he could focus on was the warmth of Jun's body once their clothes were hastily strewn across the floor, the feeling of Jun's hands and mouth touching and marking him again.

"I thought they'd killed you," Jun admitted, and Sho could taste salt on Jun's cheeks. "I thought it was all over."

"I'm here," he said, reaching for Jun's hand in the darkness, twining their fingers together. It didn't feel new and uncertain this time. He knew immediately what he wanted, what he needed, and gave himself fully.

"Jun, I'm right here."


	6. Chapter 6

He woke with a start, hearing noise. It was coming from downstairs. Jun was beside him, wrapped up in the blankets and their hands still joined. Jun wasn't stirring - maybe his worry and their exertions had sent him into a deep rest. But Sho could still hear it. He gently pulled his hand away from Jun, hurriedly finding his slacks and a shirt.

Was it Takahashi? Was he trying to crack the safe? He closed the bedroom door behind him, hoping Jun wouldn't be alerted. He needed to keep Jun safe. He opened Nino's room, remembering the baseball bat he'd kept on the wall there. Sho retrieved it as quietly as he could and tiptoed barefoot out of the room and headed for the stairs. Whoever was in the room downstairs didn't seem to hear him come down, and he took a deep breath, exhaling as he prepared to turn around the corner and confront whoever had snuck into the bar.

He listened to the safe door close - the person had managed to crack the combo, Sho guessed. There was some shuffling, probably the portrait being replaced. They'd come and taken the money, all the money Jun had risked getting caught to get, and Sho's fury grew. Even if the money had been earned for something horrible, it wasn't for Takahashi's goons to take.

He readied the bat, gripping it tightly as he moved closer to the open door, the light shining into the hallway. The person hadn't even bothered to hide what they were doing. Maybe they came for the money first, then they'd head upstairs and finish off the two loose ends - him and Jun. Well, that wasn't going to happen. Sho wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do. He wasn't sure he could kill anyone, but Jun didn't seem like a killer either. He'd stabbed those two men trying to defend himself - maybe this was the same idea. This person was trespassing.

Sho waited right outside the door, and finally, the light inside went off as the thief pulled the chain. Would he strike first? Or hide in the shadows and come up behind him? He hung back, seeing the person emerge and shut the door behind him. It was a man, shorter than Sho, wearing a hat and with a bag slung over his shoulder - just how much of the money had he taken?

The man moved along, heading back through the bar. He'd come in right through the front door! Sho could barely move, fear paralyzing him even though he had the baseball bat in hand. The thief could have a knife, maybe even a gun. Finally, the thief stopped dead in the middle of the room, and Sho stopped in his tracks a few feet behind. His sneaking around hadn't been terribly effective, Sho realized.

The person turned around to face him, still hidden in shadow. Sho held the bat, could feel himself trembling even as he did it. They stood there, nothing but figures in the darkness until a car came down the street, its headlights briefly illuminating the Bar Ryusei glass and giving him a glance at who he was pursuing.

Sho's arms fell, and he dropped the bat. It hit the hardwood floor with a loud, rattling thud.

"Well," said the voice of the thief before him. "I guess the jig is up, Sho-chan."

If the face hadn't been enough, the voice - deeper but unmistakable even after all these years - was the last puzzle piece falling into place.

After thirteen years, Sakurai Sho was reunited with Ninomiya Kazunari.

He couldn't speak, couldn't even move, because it was Nino, the Nino he'd grown up with, standing before him in the darkness. It was the exact sort of distraction Nino required, and without another word, Sho watched the man dart off. Nino was already out the door before Sho's feet started to move and he gave chase.

The street lights were faint, but he could see Nino heading south down the road, running at quite a clip even with the bag full of money. Sho only seemed to remember that he wasn't wearing shoes when he got to the still roped-off area, dodging past chunks of concrete as he did his best to keep after him.

"Nino!" he cried, finally able to say something, but Nino knew Kagurazaka better than Sho ever would, and he suddenly cut left down one of the alleys. Sho followed, adrenaline the only thing keeping him moving as he desperately tried to catch up. It wasn't an illusion. It wasn't a horrible nightmare, not with the bitter cold hitting his skin and the uneven pavement under his bare feet. Nino was alive, and Sho had to find him.

But as soon as he got into the maze of back streets, he knew he'd failed. He hadn't been fast enough. He came to a dead end stop at a brick wall, and unless Nino could scale a three-story building, he must have made a wrong turn. Nino had vanished.

And only then did the pain set in, and Sho leaned against the brick with a groan. He had to have chased Nino a few blocks, and he started to shiver. He had to tell the police. Hell, he had to get back and tell Jun. Nino was alive. Nino was out there in Tokyo somewhere. The man Tanaka had seen, the man with the hat, the damned third man Sho had been seeking all this time - it had been Nino himself.

He limped slowly back to Bar Ryusei, his mind almost as numb as his body was growing in the cold. All this time he'd been trying to find Nino's killer, and all this time he'd been duped. The police had been duped. He thought back to earlier, when he'd been kidnapped. Takahashi had wanted him dead, but the other man had wanted him kept alive. That person had been Nino - Nino had only wanted to scare him off the trail.

He'd left the door to Bar Ryusei wide open, and when he stumbled inside, he saw Jun had turned on the lights. He walked in and sank to the floor, exhausted, and Jun came running out of the storage room. "What the hell happened?" Jun cried, hurrying over and crouching down at his side. "Someone broke in. Why didn't you wake me? Half the money's gone! Was it one of Takahashi's people?"

Sho laughed. It seemed so comical, sitting there in the middle of Nino's bar, shivering from the cold and seeing his road-blackened, bleeding feet smear up the hardwood. The two of them - Nino had made fools of the both of them.

"You didn't know, did you?" Sho said, still laughing as the pain in his feet brought tears to his eyes. "You wouldn't have locked up the money if you'd known. He lied to you, too."

Jun got up, moving behind the bar and wetting a few towels under the sink. He came back around, grabbing hold of Sho's legs and trying to clean off the dirt and the blood. It stung, but Sho didn't much care. "Who lied?" Jun asked, feeling his forehead. "What's wrong with you, running off like that? You're going to get sick."

"Our recently deceased friend," Sho spat, tipping himself until he was lying flat on his back and staring up at the dim lights overhead. "It was him, I saw him. He was here."

Jun scrubbed his foot hard. "Who? For god's sake, Sakurai, you're a fucking mess..."

"Nino!" he pronounced, pointing up at the ceiling as though Nino himself, fourteen year old Nino, was up there smirking down at him. "Ninomiya Kazunari. He's alive. He faked his death. Tanaka saw him, bye Tanaka. I wonder whose body they cremated, huh? Takahashi took care of the arrangements. No wonder they didn't tell you about it. They didn't want you to know."

Jun pulled him up, putting Sho's arm around him and helping him to the stairs. Each step was a red hot stab of pain, and he groaned all the way upstairs. "That's not possible," Jun said. "You must have been sleepwalking."

"Wasn't sleepwalking! He called me Sho-chan, that son of a bitch!" he cried as Jun helped him to get down onto the couch. "You were down in that room. You know it, and you don't want to believe it. He came to get his money. He suckered you, Jun. He suckered you into picking up his blood money so he'd have even more to run away with. Ha, no wonder he told you to pick it up. He knew you'd do it too..."

"Don't talk about him like that," Jun said in warning, but there was definitely a change in his tone. It seemed that Jun believed him. "Maybe he has his reasons..."

He sat up, struggling against Jun. He grabbed hold of the man's arm, squeezing tight enough to make Jun wince. "His reasons? His reasons, Jun? For faking his death? Yeah, I'll give you one big god damn reason. If he's dead, he can't get arrested for his racket. He got you a nice name change, he's probably buying himself one with the money he ran off with."

"But he didn't hurt us. If he wanted you or me dead and out of the way, you know we'd be gone by now," Jun said.

"You're honestly defending him?" Sho cried, putting his hands to Jun's face and seeking, demanding his attention. "Jun, we have to tell the police."

"No," Jun replied. "You know we can't do that..."

"You wanted to find out who killed him just as much as I did. You wanted to know because you cared about him. But now that the world's gone mad, and he's walking the streets a free man, untouchable, you just want him to disappear!"

"So what if I do?"

He shoved Jun away. "He lied to you. You've been mourning him for two weeks, and he's probably been laughing, waiting for the right time to come snatch all that money away!"

Jun got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

"What?" Sho shouted. "You're going to make some tea? Is that going to make you feel any better? He's a criminal! He's done horrible things, and damn it, he was my friend too!"

Jun returned with some gauze, scissors, and cellophane tape instead. "You haven't seen him all this time," Jun said quietly, wrapping the gauze around Sho's feet with the expert precision of someone who'd had to attend to injuries before. At least he wasn't on a rocking ship under fire. "What right do you have to pass judgment on him?"

Why couldn't Jun understand? Why wouldn't Jun get angry about Nino's betrayal? They sat in silence, Jun wrapping both of Sho's feet up with the gauze and taping it.

He caught Jun by the hand as he made to get up. "Why? Just tell me why you can accept it. Tell me why you can accept what he is."

Jun brushed his lips to Sho's knuckles and broke away. "He gave me a second chance at living. It meant more than you can understand."

He listened to Jun return the things to the kitchen, putting everything in its right place. The light was switched off, and he listened to Jun walk off to bed. Sho debated getting up, following him back there, but it was no use. He was fairly certain that Jun wouldn't want to sleep by his side anyhow.

All Sho could see in his mind's eye as he tried to sleep was that car going past the bar, the flash of light that turned his world upside down. Nino was alive, and Sho had some terrible choices to make.

\--

After a phone call that had left Officer Aiba fairly speechless, he was back in that alley with the brick wall come morning. His feet ached, but he'd woken to find a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water waiting for him. Jun had gone wherever it was that he liked to disappear to in the daytime, but he was still looking out for him. At this point Sho wasn't sure if Jun was showing him a kindness because they'd fallen for one another or because Jun was still doing his best to follow Nino's request.

Ohno tapped the wall with his nightstick. "And you're sure this is the alley he came down? You know this whole neighborhood's like a maze."

It had been dark, but it had been a long walk back in the cold. He was damn sure this was the way he'd come. He hadn't told Aiba or Ohno about the safe full of money - all he'd mentioned was hearing noise downstairs and finding Nino there before he ran off. Having slept on it, Sho was fairly convinced that informing the police that Nino was alive had been the right and proper thing to do. Beyond that, he wasn't too sure yet.

"If anything," Aiba said, "I guess we have an explanation for the man missing from the hospital."

"What's that?" Ohno asked, still tapping the brick for a non-existent secret entrance.

"Well, all the hush hush around the accident. Sakurai-san, before we even got to the scene, Takahashi had covered the man's face, saying how badly it had been disfigured. And of course Matsuyama was there to back him up and keep the police from getting a good look. It was all part of the plan. They threw that poor man from the hospital in front of the truck, gave him a nice funeral and cremated the body. I bet that man's ashes are in the Ninomiya family grave," Aiba explained.

It was despicable, Sho thought. He didn't want to imagine Nino being capable of such a thing, but with the diluted medicine and whatever other black market activities he'd participated in, what was one more corpse? He walked through the alley slowly, the officers trying to think of what doorway might have allowed Nino passage. The sound of Sho's footsteps changed briefly as he walked over a manhole cover, and Aiba immediately turned around.

"Boss!" he said excitedly. "Boss, I got it!"

"Got what?" Ohno asked, just as calm and unsurprised as ever.

"Sho-san, if you don't mind," Aiba said, walking over to him and easing him aside. He pointed down proudly. "He had enough of a lead on you, and you said he was a quick one."

Sho looked down at the manhole cover. Of course. Nino hadn't disappeared into thin air. He'd simply gone to ground. Ohno crouched down, easily lifting the cover and pushing it aside. An iron ladder descended to a concrete pathway about twenty feet below them. "So he's been using the sewers to get around," Ohno mused. "Just like a rat."

"No offense," Aiba interrupted.

He nodded. Sure, Tokyo was a big city, and people mostly kept to themselves. But Nino was no fool, and if the police had photographs of him, it made sense to hide. He went back to the station with them, letting them take an official witness statement that Ninomiya Kazunari was not dead but merely a fugitive of justice. They'd even stopped in a store to buy him a seal to stamp the Sakurai name onto it. And with that, Sho realized, he'd done something he could never take back.

There was no getting their superiors to move on the case as long as Nino was dead - but now that he was alive, Ohno was fairly certain they could start the ball rolling on Takahashi, Matsuyama, maybe the whole racket. There wasn't much more Sho could do at that point, so Aiba drove him back to Bar Ryusei, letting the car idle in the alleyway behind the building.

"Must be quite a shock," the officer said quietly, unable to meet Sho's eyes. "I don't know what I'd do if it was my own friend."

"Did I make the wrong choice, Aiba-san?" Sho asked him sadly. "Should I have just let him disappear into the night? I could just go back to America and forget I'd ever come back."

Aiba considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "He's done terrible things, unforgivable things. I promise you that we'll catch him. If we have to send teams of men into the sewers, we'll do it. No matter who he was to you, he needs to be brought to justice."

Sho could only nod. Justice. Could there be justice for someone like Nino? Would he be able to see the error of his ways? Sho could only hope that a swift arrest and imprisonment would stop Nino from selling that horrible medicine that was probably killing men, women, and children throughout Japan every day. Only then could Sho forgive him and in doing so, forgive himself for abandoning Nino so many years ago and letting his life come to something like this.

He bid Aiba farewell, receiving assurances that if there were any developments in Nino's case that they'd telephone the apartment. He closed the car door and took his slower, measured steps to the door. As Aiba pulled away and Sho unlocked the back door of the bar, he stepped on a small white envelope.

Sho knew what it was even before bending down to retrieve it, seeing "To Sakurai Sho-sama" written in the same handwriting as the letter he'd received from Nino only a few weeks earlier. In that earlier letter, there'd been no indication that Nino was anything other than a barkeep. How things had changed.

He opened the envelope hastily, dropping it to the floor to read Nino's letter. Where he expected some sort of explanation or apology, it would not be coming in writing. There was no signature, only a simple request:

Takashimaya Department Store, Ginza. 4pm. Watches.

Sho turned the letter over, seeing nothing else written. His first instinct was to call Officer Ohno immediately, have Aiba's car radioed so he could come back to pick him up. Nino seemed to trust him not to do that, giving him every detail to meet him. He went upstairs with heavy steps, discovering that Jun was still not home. He wondered if Jun himself had gone looking for Nino, looking for an explanation for why Nino had faked his own death.

He knew that if Jun was there, he would insist that Sho meet with him. And it really was the only way he'd get to ask Nino why he'd fallen so far. If the kidnapping had been any indication, it meant that Nino intended him no harm. At least not thus far - men could change their minds as easily as they would turn medicine to poison.

A department store was out in the open and a great risk for Nino, especially if he knew about the police's involvement. Of course, if Nino had been alive all this time, he probably would have known about Sho's meetings with Aiba and Ohno. He decided that he had little choice but to go and see what kind of explanation Nino would offer.

And there was the smallest part of Sho, the sixteen year old boy who'd left Tokyo so many years ago - that part of him wanted so desperately to see Nino once more, regardless of what he'd done. It was that desire that brought him to Iidabashi Station without looking back, finding a taxi there to take him east from Chiyoda Ward to the department store in Chuo.

The shopping district had seen better days, but many of the buildings had survived the war, including Takashimaya rising up like a concrete giant as the taxi pulled over to the curb. Shoppers in the Ginza were few that day - it was chilly and overcast, and the sun would soon be setting. The building was several stories worth of stone with striped awnings ringing the outside.

Sho hurried into the store, knowing he only had ten minutes to spare. The watches. Nino had meant to meet him by the watches. He wandered past cosmetic counters and bored salesgirls trying to spritz him with fragrances most people in Tokyo could not afford. It transitioned into jewelry, and sure enough, he found the watch counter shortly after. He stayed back, looking instead at necklaces for women, trying not to look terribly interested to keep the salesman at bay while he kept an eye out for Nino.

He was so busy focusing on the watch counter that he didn't notice Nino was behind him until he felt a hand at his back.

"Don't jump, it's only me," Nino said, and Sho did his best not to cry out in shock. There was no such thing as "only me" when it came to Nino now, but his manner of speech and attitude hadn't much changed.

He turned, seeing his friend up close for the first time. Nino was shorter than him by a few inches and where Sho had grown a good deal and gained weight since his teenage years, Nino still had a small frame, noticeable even under the long coat he was wearing. His eyes were sharp and shrewd even underneath the hat he hadn't bothered to take off upon entering the store. The narrow face, the small nose with the rounded tip, the unmistakable mark on his chin - it was Nino alright, the very same boy he'd left behind all those years ago. Except he was a grown man now, and his eyes had seen more than Sho ever could have.

"Before you say anything, let's go somewhere we can talk," Nino instructed, and Sho couldn't even protest as Nino's small fingers wrapped around his forearm and tugged him toward the elevator banks. He could feel Nino watching him as they rode up to the sixth floor - fine china and other serving supplies. Few people were there in the late afternoon on a cold day at the tail end of winter.

Nino moved toward a particularly isolated part of the floor with no salespeople in sight, nor any customers. As soon as they were alone, Nino leaned an elbow against the display case, eyeing Sho warily. "You must hate me now."

All Sho could do was laugh. "This is how you greet me after thirteen years, huh?"

Nino smiled. "Well, would you rather I hugged you?"

"Not particularly, if you don't mind."

"I mind, Sho-chan," Nino said, nodding his head and turning his gaze to the blue-tinted dishes in the case. "I wish we'd gotten to meet up again in a better world, a better situation."

"Not much I can do about the world," Sho remarked. "But you seem to be in a situation entirely of your own doing."

"And that situation is one you disapprove of," Nino agreed. "You always were quick to pass judgment on me, I remember that, Sho-chan..."

Sho turned away, moving to another case and away from the man he'd known so many years ago. "I think we're a little old for that sort of familiarity."

"Never too old," Nino said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter from inside his coat and lit one. Nino must have thought himself invincible, blowing a smoke ring right in the middle of the store. "I think you want nothing to do with me. You've spoken with the police, so by now, you've been told what a despicable person I've become. They've shown you evidence of my wrongdoing?"

"Photographs, too."

Nino took a long drag from the cigarette. "Should have locked me up when they had the chance," he mused.

"I doubt they'd have been able to with the company you keep," Sho noted.

Nino nodded at this, taking the hat from his head and setting it down on the counter. His hair was slicked back with a sharp part on one side, very different from the unkempt mess it had been when he was a kid. "Sure you're pretty fond of some of that company. You and Jun-kun have gotten pretty cozy, I see?"

Sho smarted at that, looking away. Nino's ability to see straight through him had not vanished.

"Ah, you don't think last night was the first time I popped by for a visit, do you?" Nino said with a chuckle. "Why, the lights were on every night, long past sleeping time for any normal man. Jun-kun did keep strange hours on account of the job I found him, but you strike me as a man who's in bed by nine thirty every night."

"The police are looking for him, you know," Sho said. "For Jun. For Goda Takeshi. If he's not careful or Takahashi has his way, he'll get himself arrested."

"There's nothing I can do about that. I'm a dead man, after all."

"You lied to him," Sho said, watching Nino tip some ash from his cigarette onto the linoleum. "You did all that to give him a new life, and then you're just going to abandon him. You know he's still completely loyal to you. You know he risked his own hide to go pick up your damned money. I tried to tell him what the police told me about your little racket, and he seemed to think you had your reasons."

"I do have my reasons," Nino interrupted. "And I can't tell him how to live his life or who to be loyal to. I asked him for a favor, he came through. It's the rare man these days who can be counted on to do something like that."

"And if he goes to jail? If he hangs for killing those men in self-defense?"

Nino threw down the cigarette, crushing it under his polished shoe. "Why don't you save him? You're so obviously fond of him, and you always wanted to fix all the problems I caused. Don't see how this is any different. You've always got an answer, don't you? Take him back to the States with you; the papers I got for him have all the proper stamps and things."

"So you want me out of the country, out of Japan, huh? You think I'll just run away so you can keep hurting people? You think I won't talk?"

"I came here," Nino said defensively, "with the thought of bringing you in, letting you have your own cut. I know now that was a mistake."

"A cut? Of your blood money?" Sho cried, moving away from the cases of china and off to the window. Tokyo was all around them, dreary and defeated. "I'd just as soon inject myself with the shoddy medicine you peddle to the poor and needy. To your victims."

Nino was quick, beside Sho at the window in seconds. Sho tried to keep his breathing steady as Nino's cold fingers curled around his wrist. "Would you take a look outside, Sho-chan? Huh? Would you look at the street?"

He did so obediently, watching the tiny people walking down the road and the cars passing by.

"My victims, huh?" Nino said, pressing closer. "Don't be so melodramatic. Look down there, look how small they are. Like dots, really. Would you really feel any pity if one of those little dots stopped moving forever? If I gave you six million yen for every little dot that stopped moving, would you tell me to keep my money? Would you calculate how many little dots you could sacrifice?"

"They're not dots, Nino. They're human beings."

"Human beings in a country that doesn't care about them. A country that sent them off to a losing war, put them in planes like they did with Jun and said to fly them into ships and carriers. A country that let the Americans come right in and set up shop. A country that sure as hell can't afford to feed them." Nino's hand was cold like ice, almost like he really was dead. "They're going to starve and suffer anyhow, and if they're dopey enough to buy medicine from the black market, then what's the use in feeling sorry?"

Sho could only look down and see people, living breathing people who didn't deserve any cruelty from their country or their own countrymen alike. "What happened to you? Everything you did was to get ahead, to bring your family into better circumstances. Why are you so bitter and angry now? What changed?"

"I'm not angry, Sho-chan. I'm a businessman, and that's the nature of business in times like these. I don't do what I do to be a cruel, heartless bastard. I have to do what makes me money and keeps me from standing in a rice line. And with this medicine, demand outweighs supply, through no fault of my own, mind you, so we had to change the formulation."

Sho wasn't sure how Nino could live with himself, but Sho hadn't lived through the war over here. He had been relatively safe and even if Manzanar had been awful, he hadn't starved or gotten sick without ready access to medicine. He wasn't sure what to do. Much as he disagreed with Nino, he could still see parts of the boy he'd known - the boy who'd had to grow up far too soon.

"And when I say I have no interest in your schemes?" he asked.

"Then there's very little I can do to change your mind. Go back to America," Nino urged him. "This isn't the same place you left. You don't want to be here, and you know that."

"If I refuse?"

Nino looked at him strangely, almost looking heartbroken - if he still had one to break. "Then it's increasingly difficult for me to protect you if you keep poking your nose in things that don't concern you. I've done everything I could up til now. There are limits to the things I can do."

Sho rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Thanks for the warning."

He felt Nino slip a business card into his palm, closing his fingers around it. "If you do miraculously have a change of heart, here's how you can reach me. And if I see you again, Sakurai, I'll be seeing you alone. You can hate me all you'd like, but I still think of you as my oldest friend. And I said you always would be my friend. That's the promise I won't break."

Sho slipped the card into his coat pocket as Nino released him, heading back to retrieve his hat. "What about Jun? Do you have any message to pass along to him?"

"I told Takeshi when I first met him that he reminded me of you. You're both so stubborn and cerebral." Nino arranged the hat on his head. "You take good care of him. I think you can do more for him than I ever did. Goodbye, Sho-chan."

And with that, Sho watched Nino head off, disappearing around a corner. Nino was most assuredly alive, and as long as Sho interfered no further, Nino would remain alive. But there'd been no signs of remorse, no indication that Nino gave a damn about anything but his own financial successes. He stood at the window of the Takashimaya for a long time after that, watching the "dots" wander the streets of Ginza until the sun set for the night and shrouded Tokyo once again in darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

He arrived home after midnight, tired and more distressed than ever. Jun wasn't at work, and Sho found him relaxing on the sofa with a book open in his lap. He looked up to see Sho enter.

"Have you been out all day? On your feet?"

He nodded. Lying would be just one more cruelty, but Sho couldn't bear to tell him about his meeting with Nino. Jun had done so much for Nino's sake, and in the end, Nino hadn't seemed to care much about him at all. Jun didn't deserve that. Jun deserved so much more.

"You're an idiot," Jun told him. "You're just going to hurt them more."

Sho ignored him, making his way to the couch and slipping the book out of Jun's hand, hastily folding down the corner before closing it and tossing it onto the coffee table.

"I was reading that."

Sho maneuvered himself until he was sitting astride Jun, a leg on either side of his thighs. He couldn't talk to Jun about Nino. Especially not now. Especially not after what he'd done.

 

 _As soon as Aiba escorted him to Ohno's desk, Sho slipped Nino's card out of his pocket and set it down._

 _"What am I looking at?" Ohno asked quietly._

 _"Contact information for Ninomiya Kazunari." Sho looked from Ohno to Aiba. "He had me meet with him today. Not even an hour ago at the Takashimaya store in Ginza."_

 _He explained their strange meeting, Nino's appearance and behavior. His seeming lack of remorse and unwillingness to accept responsibility for his actions._

 _Ohno picked up the card, tapping it rhythmically against the desk. "And he trusted you with this information?"_

 _He remembered Nino's sad expression and his hinting that he still considered Sho a friend. Sho took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "It seems that way, yes."_

 

Jun had dictated the pace before. Jun was Sho's responsibility now, wasn't he? He surprised him with a swipe of his tongue to Jun's neck, wanting to possess and at the same time protect every part of him. It was a strange feeling, made all the more real as Jun gave in, sliding his glasses down his nose and folding them up in his hand.

Jun's entire body seemed hesitant and nervous under him as Sho kissed him, nearly gnashing their teeth together in his haste. He felt Jun's lips part willingly though, allowing Sho to deepen the kiss. He did all he could to commit these moments to memory - the scent of Jun, the sound of Jun's hitching breaths, the feeling of Jun's hands pulling his shirt from where it was tucked in his slacks and then Jun's touch on his skin.

He ached for Jun's touch. Sho tugged on the dark strands of Jun's hair, curling bits of black around his fingers. Closer, he needed them to be closer. It might be the last time, he thought.

Because he was pretty damn sure Jun would never forgive him for what would soon happen.

 

 _The card only contained a telephone number, no address. Ohno seemed pleased to have that much to go on though - every other Ninomiya lead had been a dead end on account of the man being, by all accounts, dead himself._

 _"It'll be too suspicious if you call and set up a meet with him tomorrow."_

 _"Wait," Sho said, "now hold on just a minute. I gave you the phone number, can't you simply talk to the phone company, find an address?"_

 _Aiba put a hand to his shoulder. "Is that really how you want things to end? With the police raiding wherever he's hiding out? Who knows what kind of security measures he and Takahashi have, right? He could get hurt if we storm in there."_

 _Ohno nodded. "It's quieter this way. You two grew up together, so you probably know a good spot to meet him. We can arrest him, get him in cuffs and out of there before there's a scene. Before anyone gets word to Takahashi. We can get him in a safe, protected lock-up."_

 _"You want me to be there? You want him to look me in the eyes and know I ratted him out?"_

 _"Would you rather sit back in the shadows?" Aiba asked. "Does his opinion of you matter so much? Maybe prison will reform him, let him see where he's been wrong. Then he only has you to thank for getting him out of that racket."_

 _A rat was a rat, Sho thought. No matter how much Nino deserved to be brought to justice, he wasn't sure if he wanted it to happen by his own hand._

 

He grew nervous, trying to help Jun get his belt unbuckled and the buttons of his trousers undone. It was wrong, taking and demanding from him without Jun really understanding why. Jun was a reasonable man, wasn't he? Maybe if he just asked...

"Come to America with me," he whispered against the corner of Jun's mouth. "It's safe there for you."

He felt Jun's hands stop moving, hesitating at the waistband of his pants. "What?"

He shouldn't have talked. He shouldn't have said anything. He brought their mouths together again, trying to convey with that what he struggled to say in words. Jun still wasn't moving, and Sho cupped his face, brushing his thumb against Jun's lips.

"Whenever I leave Tokyo, maybe you should come with me. Get a fresh start, away from all that Nino's done here."

Jun was confused. "Why now?" he asked, grabbing Sho by the wrist and moving his hand away. "Why all of a sudden now? Did something happen?"

 

 _In three days, he agreed. In three days, he would place a call to meet with Nino. A small cafe in Kagurazaka. Home turf. Friendly turf. Ohno and Aiba would place officers out of uniform in the neighborhood and block sewer entrances. Ohno himself promised to arrest Nino quickly and quietly._

 _"I want something in exchange," he said then._

 _"Hmm?" Aiba asked. "What? So long as Ninomiya comes quietly, it will all be over without any problems."_

 _"Not what I mean," Sho replied, wheels turning. If Nino was arrested, what then? Even if they brought Takahashi or Matsuyama or both in, would it really stop their organization? How far did it go? What did that mean for those Nino had left behind?_

 _"Say what you're thinking," Ohno said quietly. Sho noticed that the older officer had been watching him closely the whole time. Watching and waiting. Maybe even expecting it._

 _"Goda Takeshi. Matsumoto Jun. They're the same person," Sho explained. "And he lives over Bar Ryusei. If I do this, if I help put my friend behind bars, I want you to guarantee the safety of Matsumoto Jun."_

 _"These are your terms?" Ohno asked. "You help us, we help him?"_

 _"Those men attacked him. It was self-defense. Believe me or don't believe me, but I trust Jun's word. If I help you with Ninomiya and you pull down that whole racket, I want you to promise that the murder case is dropped."_

 _Aiba looked hesitant, but Ohno simply nodded. "Very well. Ninomiya for Goda. Matsumoto. Whatever your friend calls himself now. We won't look into it any further..."_

 _"Ohno-san," Aiba interrupted him, looking around the nearly empty squad room. "We can't just..."_

 _Sho watched Ohno walk away, holding up his finger to indicate that they wait. He returned with a file folder and held it out._

 _"It's been a hectic few months, Officer Aiba. Files go missing all the time. Things fall through the cracks." Ohno smirked. "This is everything on Goda Takeshi."_

 _Sho moved to take it, but Ohno pulled back._

 _"Ninomiya," he said. "I have your word?"_

 _Sho's hand was trembling when he accepted the folder. It was a deal. It was done._

 

Sho shook his head, clearing his throat. "No. No, nothing happened. I just...I mean, where are you going to go? No matter what's going on with Nino, it doesn't make sense for you to stick around here."

"I have a job here," Jun said, finally moving until Sho had to get off of him. They sat side by side, their breathing still quick. His fingers still itched for Jun, to touch and never find a reason to stop. But the moment passed.

"I know," Sho told him. "I know that, Jun, I just...I can't stay in Japan forever."

Jun put his glasses back on, reaching for his book again. "And that's all?"

"That's all. I just want you with me. That's all I'm saying." He got up, wondering how plainly his feelings were written on his face. He did want Jun with him, desperately so. But only because he knew tonight might be the last night Jun would ever think of him as an honorable man. "I'm going to bed."

Jun didn't follow.

\--

Three days passed with an almost alarming slowness. Sho did his best to busy himself with observing and writing about Tokyo, but it held little interest in comparison to what weighed heavily on his conscience. He wrote stories up, checked them over, and had them wired to the States. He'd grown quite adept at documenting misery.

He'd decided that he'd see that Nino was imprisoned, but after that, Los Angeles. Tokyo was home, but not for good. Sho had come to that conclusion. He was a Japanese citizen of a Japan that no longer existed. His nostalgia would only get him so far. There wasn't a place for him here. He wasn't adaptable like Nino had had to be - he knew he wouldn't be able to do whatever it took to stay out of the rice line.

The past few nights with Jun had been difficult. Jun slept beside him, slept with him, but it was without words. They'd simply reach for one another in the darkness and leave each other panting and exhausted, but each act felt like one more lie. Hadn't he been the one to demand he and Jun be open and honest with one another? He was betraying Jun in addition to Nino. It was almost fitting for Sho to return soon to Los Angeles and the backstabbing drama of Hollywood.

That afternoon he sat in front of the telephone behind the Bar Ryusei counter, looking at the card Nino had given him. It was not a call he wanted to make, but Nino seemed to have no regrets for the things he had done. Nothing Sho could do or say would change him or convince him to mend his ways.

He finally picked up the receiver and examined the number, his fingers hesitating in each small hole of the rotary dial as he turned it. Nino would hear it in his voice, wouldn't he? Nino was smart enough to know a trap right in front of him.

"Hello? Yes?"

It wasn't Nino. It wasn't a voice Sho had heard before. "Ninomiya Kazunari-san, please."

There was silence on the other end for a few moments. "One moment please."

The seconds ticked by, Sho's guilt making his chest hurt and breathing increasingly shallow, but finally the familiar voice came over the line.

"Sho-chan."

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, hoping he sounded solemn and serious instead of erratic and distressed like he felt.

"Well, you're the only person I've given this number to. There weren't a lot of guesses to make," Nino said with a chuckle.

Sho shut his eyes, hearing Nino's breathing through the receiver. "Nino, I've given some thought to what you've said. About leaving Japan, that is. I think maybe it's for the best that I return to Los Angeles. Sooner rather than later."

Nino almost sounded relieved. "I think for both of our sakes, Sho-chan, that this is the best option. Wouldn't you agree? Tokyo's become a rather nasty place, no thanks to my own efforts. I don't want you getting mixed up in this business, truly I don't."

"Yes, I'm a little over my head here," Sho admitted, and that much at least wasn't a lie. "But as I've booked myself on a ship to Hawaii, my time left is short. I was wondering...I mean, I know we disagree on things. A lot of things. But I don't want to leave without seeing you one more time. I feel after all these years that I should have done more to be your friend. I didn't try hard enough to do that, and I'm sorry."

Nino was quiet for a short while, and Sho felt like he was going to be ill. Lies mixed with truth. Nothing but dishonesty and deception - he was no better in the end, was he?

"You understand that I can only spare a few minutes?"

Sho couldn't tell if Nino was onto him or just being as cautious as any living dead man might have been. "I just wish to say goodbye. I haven't written anything about you for the newspaper, so you don't have to worry about achieving any infamy in America."

"Oh, that's too bad. I would so like to be headline news somewhere," Nino remarked. "Where shall we meet?"

"Kagurazaka. There's a coffee shop just south of the Akagi Shrine, a bit chilly for outdoor seating, but if it's only a few moments, I'm sure you can manage." Sho had had coffee at the small shop for several days, editing the stories he'd written into something the paper could actually pay for. It was a charming little shop, but nothing extraordinary that would hint at deception. Not that Sho was all that skillful when it came to intrigue.

"Run by a woman with parakeets?"

"That's the one," Sho replied.

"I know it. Today?"

Sho swallowed, knowing that this was his last chance to change his mind. But he thought about the folder full of Goda Takeshi that Ohno had given him. He'd borrowed a lighter from Officer Aiba and torched the whole thing in the alley behind the station. There truly was no going back.

"5:00 PM. By the time we finish, the sun will be setting."

"Even planning my escape for me, Sho-chan? Very well. 5:00 PM."

The line went dead, and Sho set the receiver back in its cradle. He sat a few moments, thinking about Nino. About things he'd mostly forgotten, about their childhood together. How inseparable they'd been for so long. That Nino was gone though. That Sho was gone too.

He picked up the telephone once more to place the call to Officer Ohno.

\--

He checked his wristwatch for about the twentieth time. It was five minutes until 5:00 now, and he could see Aiba across the way standing inside a grocer's, waiting. Ohno was inside the coffee shop with a newspaper, waiting. Sho was outside, and it was chilly.

As soon as Nino took a seat, and Sho gave the signal (adjusting his hat), then Ohno would come out of the shop quickly and put Ninomiya under arrest. Sho wasn't sure how many officers they'd managed to round up, but the streets didn't look overly crowded. It was a livelier part of the neighborhood compared to the Bar Ryusei area, so folks were closing up shop for the day, heading home. Nino would blend in easily.

Sho finally caught sight of him wrapped in a dark trenchcoat as he emerged seemingly out of nowhere to approach the cafe table. He stood, seeing Nino smile as he approached. It was a genuine smile, Sho could tell, and it tore his heart in two. This was the Nino he'd left behind that summer day, the little boy who'd meant so much.

"Sit down, sit down," Nino urged, gesturing for Sho to have a seat. "No need for a big production. Let's just hear about the stories you've been writing."

Of course, Sho had been so busy waiting for Nino that he hadn't thought to look for anyone else. And of course, Ohno within the cafe and Aiba across the street only had a name, never a face. They wouldn't have known to look for Goda Takeshi.

Sho nearly jumped out of his skin as the man himself, now Matsumoto Jun walked up from behind Sho and took a seat between him and Nino.

"Ah," Nino said with a grin. "You didn't say Jun was coming."

Jun's eyes were sharp, angry even, and Nino's face fell.

"Jun wasn't supposed to know," Nino said. "Was he, Sho-chan?"

Sho turned to his left, seeing Ohno in the shop looking concerned. Aiba had already left the grocer, probably to alert the other officers.

Jun wouldn't let Sho speak first. "Nino, this is a trap."

Nino nodded. "Thanks, Jun. But I knew that."

Sho felt everything start to unravel at once. Jun's fury, Nino's almost heartbroken acceptance. "Jun," Sho whispered. "How did..."

Jun pulled an envelope out of his pocket, setting it down on the table. It was the envelope from the other day, still with the handwritten "To Sakurai Sho-sama." Sho's blood was rushing. Jun had known. Jun had been suspicious all that time, saying not a word. Sleeping with him even though he must have had some idea what Sho had been planning to do.

Nino's fingers brushed against the envelope. "Sho-chan, you really haven't changed, have you? You've always had a purer idea of how people ought to treat their fellow man."

"Nino," Jun urged him, fingers wrapping around Nino's wrist. Sho could tell - the depth of affection Jun had for Nino. And the near amusement it seemed to give Nino himself. "You have to leave. It's all a set-up. Please, go now! You have to go!"

Sho didn't even think a signal to Ohno was going to make much difference now. Nino had known, no matter what. "Sho-chan, take Jun home."

Jun turned to Sho with something close to hatred in his eyes. "What did you agree to, Sakurai? What was the deal? Why are you doing this?"

Sho could feel Nino's eyes on him, almost sympathetic. "You," he admitted.

Nino was already getting to his feet.

"Me?" Jun spat. "What do you mean me?"

Nino had his hand in his coat, and he could see Aiba approaching from across the street with three other officers.

"I did it for you," Sho repeated. "The deal was that you go free. The deal was I give them Nino. Goda Takeshi really is dead now."

"You have to admit, Jun-kun, it's a damn fine plan. It warms the heart, really," Nino remarked calmly. It was the last bit of calm there'd be.

The door to the coffee shop opened, and Sho was stunned to see the pistol in the officer's hand. This was supposed to be quiet! They'd promised him it would be quiet!

Sho got to his feet. "Ohno-san..."

"Ninomiya Kazunari," Ohno announced. "I hereby place you under..."

Sho only saw the pistol in Nino's hand for a split second before he whirled to his left and fired. He and Jun dropped to the ground as Ohno's pistol fired, and Nino was on the run. The people in the streets went into a panic, screaming and running from the shots.

"Officer down over here!"

Sho looked over to see the police gathering around one of their own. No, Sho thought, watching Nino disappear down an alleyway. He could see Officer Aiba on the ground, the victim of Nino's sudden shot. No, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. Nino had shot a policeman. A policeman! With how many witnesses? Damn it, damn it, damn it...

Jun was dragging him, knocking over the cafe chair and pulling Sho by his coat sleeve. "I'm not worth it. Not worth it. Help him. For god's sake, help him, Sho, go! Go!"

Jun gave him one last shove and took off down another alley, maybe hoping to cut Nino off and help him escape. Ohno was already running towards the alleyway Nino had ventured down, and all Sho could do was follow. Nino had shot Aiba. He'd shot him just as the sun was setting over Tokyo, and Officer Ohno had finally lost his cool. There'd be no quiet arrest, not now.

Oh god, Sho thought. Ohno was going to shoot to kill.

The walls of Kagurazaka seemed to close around him as he ran, his feet still sore from his last chase, but keeping Nino alive became the only thing moving him forward. Getting to Nino before Jun, getting him to surrender and give himself up. It was all he could do. It had gone bad so quickly. How had it gone so badly?

"Ninomiya!" Ohno shouted, and the sound of the shot ricocheted off the building walls looming over them.

Sho and Ohno came to a dead end, noticing the sewer cover. Nino had gone down into the sewers once again. Ohno lifted the cover and flung it angrily, descending the ladder into the sewer below. Sho could hear flowing water, and it only grew louder as he climbed down, praying that Nino wasn't just waiting to pick them off with two decisive shots.

"Left!" Ohno ordered him. "Go left!"

The officer took off running to the right once he got the bottom rung of the ladder, and Sho did as he was told. The concrete pathways turned to simple metal grating as the sewer tunnels descended, water flowing noisily along. Sho ran, desperate to find him. Nino had done terrible things, but he belonged in jail. Behind him, heading down all the different maze-like tunnels, he could hear other officers joining them in the hunt. All of them would have Nino in their crosshairs.

This was all Sho's fault.

His vision was blurring, and he didn't bother wiping the tears from his eyes. He'd gotten Nino killed - they were going to hunt him down like a rat and shoot him. Why did Nino run? Why did he have to shoot Aiba? And was Officer Aiba alive above ground or dead? He moved forward, ignoring the pain, ignoring everything but the need to find Kazunari, the cook's son. His first true friend. Maybe his only true friend. Maybe the only one he'd ever have.

"Nino!" he shouted. "Nino, please!"

He ran around a corner and skidded to a halt, seeing Nino sitting on the ground, slumped against the wall with his hand clutching his side. He collapsed to his knees before him, shaking Nino by the shoulder.

"Nino!" he muttered. He couldn't alert the other officers, not yet. Not when they were all trying to find him. "Nino, come on."

He looked down, seeing the dark blood covering his friend's hand, trickling out from a wound in his gut.

"Went through the back, came out the front," Nino said by way of greeting, his eyes watering and red from the pain. "Your policeman friend's a great shot."

Sho laid his own hands over Nino's, feeling the man's life start to seep out and onto his fingers. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. There was supposed to be justice. This wasn't justice. This was his friend, dying before his eyes. Nino had worked so hard to fake his death - but there was no way to stop it this time around.

"Nino, I'm sorry," Sho said, hands desperately trying to keep Nino's over the wound. "I'll stay here. With you. I won't let them shoot you, I promise."

"Sho-chan," Nino choked out, a slight trickle of blood meandering down his chin, flowing past his distinctive birthmark. "Sho-chan, I know you meant well. I'm not mad at you."

"I'd be mad at me. Damn it, it wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"Could have stayed home. Katsumi said...Katsumi, he said I was a fool to go. But you're leaving, right? You're leaving Japan," Nino said with a bloody smile. "So I came to see you off. Afraid...no picture this time. Sorry."

"Don't talk like that," he cried. "Let me call for Officer Ohno..."

Nino stretched out his leg, skittering his gun slightly. "It stings. It'll take me a long time to die with a shot through the gut."

Sho stared at him. "What?"

Nino dragged his leg along the grate, pushing the gun until it rested against Sho's leg. "Do it. Do this one damn thing because we're friends. I just...I can't go to jail. I can't. And I won't bleed out like this either."

What Nino was asking him was impossible. Absolutely impossible. He shook his head. "No. No, Nino, I can't do that..."

"You can. You're my friend, no matter what, so how about..." Nino coughed, wincing in agony. "So how about you fulfill your friend's dying wish? Not going out this way, okay?"

Sho took one hand away from holding Nino's, fingers sticky with blood as he picked up the pistol Nino had used to try and make his escape. "I can't. I won't."

"I'm asking you to."

Hadn't he done enough? Hadn't Sho done enough to screw things up? Nino took one hand away from his belly to pull on Sho's wrist, directing the gun barrel straight at his heart.

"One shot for an old friend, okay?"

Sho couldn't even see. He didn't really want to see. Jun would never forgive him, never for this. He was sobbing, getting louder. The police would come find him. They could get him to a hospital, couldn't they? Couldn't they?

Nino's fingers moved Sho's into place at the trigger. "You were never a crybaby like this. Whiny, yes. Crying, no. Come on, it'll be nice and quick, see?"

"No. Nino, no."

"Sho-chan, do you remember when my dad ran off? So we had no place to go? We got that house. Your dad paid for that, you know?"

"No...I didn't know..."

"He paid for that house for me and my mom and my sister, and I decided...ow, god damn it, don't get shot ever, promise me...I decided that I wasn't going to take handouts...ever again. Ever."

"Nino," Sho begged him, but Nino would not let him go. His friend's old eyes, far older than the rest of him looked, refused to break from his.

"I did the best I could. And I got to see you again. I missed you, you know," Nino said, still smiling. "I'm so glad I got to see you again."

"Nino, don't-"

Nino's fingers pushed down on Sho's.

"No!" he screamed. The sound of it at such close range was a harsh pop echoing off the walls, and the recoil jolted his arm.

"No!" He felt Nino's hand slip away from his, and he let the gun clatter to the ground. He reached for his friend's face, leaving bloody stains on the pale, youthful skin. No pain - only peace, only contentment remained. Nino was truly gone. "No!"

He didn't know how long he sat there holding his friend and shaking, but he eventually felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sho-san."

It was Officer Ohno.

"Sho-san, I'm so sorry."

\--

This time the funeral arrangements were carried out by the Ninomiya family. His mother had passed away at some time during the war, but his sister took care of things. Takahashi Katsumi was nowhere to be found, presumably out of the country. Matsuyama Ken'ichi had been suddenly reassigned to Sapporo. Sho wondered if there'd be any resolution there.

Jun stood alone at the Ninomiya family grave in Aoyama Cemetery, not meeting Sho's eyes once. Officer Ohno walked back with him, leaving Matsumoto to mourn alone when it was over. The first signs of spring were making themselves known in buds on the trees. Soon would be time for cherry blossom viewing, but Sho would be back in America before it got into full swing.

Sho listened to the birds in the trees as he and Ohno strolled along. It had been a week since Sho had spent the night at Bar Ryusei, and all of his things were packed up at the hotel and ready to go with him to Yokohama Harbor in the morning. His editor had been disappointed to learn of his pending departure, but there were other things to cover like the Soviets anyhow. Sho would not be hurting for work when he returned to Los Angeles.

Officer Ohno walked beside him. "I receive complaints daily from Aiba-kun's wife. He's apparently being rather insufferable."

The other policeman had been shot clean through his shoulder and upon some rehabilitation and rest, he'd be back on the force by summer. Tokyo needed all the police it could get. "Tell him I'll write a story about him for the paper," Sho said, "that'll cheer him."

"It probably would."

They made it to the entrance of the park, and Sho turned to look back.

"The car's waiting for us. I've instructed them to bring you to your hotel," Ohno said.

"It's fine. I'm waiting for someone," Sho said, shaking his head. He held out his hand. "Thank you, Officer."

Ohno shook his hand. "Thank you, Sakurai-san. Take care of yourself. Be sure to write."

He waved as the policeman departed, turning back to see the figure in the distance. It was the walk of someone who'd been in the service many years. A name change and a career change didn't matter - it was something drilled in and unforgettable.

Sho waited as the tree branches sprinkled water from an earlier rain storm down upon the ground. Matsumoto continued to walk forward. Sho wanted to apologize. Wanted to beg Jun to go with him. Wanted to say something, anything to him. He took out a cigarette and lit it, hoping it would keep him warm and calm his nerves.

And still Jun walked forward. He had to be fifty paces away. Forty. Thirty. Twenty.

Sho took a long drag from his cigarette and prepared for what to say, blowing smoke out and to the side. He licked his lips.

Ten.

Five.

Still looking straight ahead, Matsumoto Jun passed him by without a word, walking without changing his pace out of Aoyama Cemetery and off into the Tokyo morning.

Sho dropped the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

\--

EPILOGUE - 1951

The Rosenbergs' trial was almost over, and yet here Sho was waiting for his editor to decide who'd fly out and be there in the courtroom for the verdict. Sho wanted it to be him, but the man's door was still closed.

Well, not much he could do. He added a fresh sheet of paper to the typewriter and got ready to get a head start on the latest news over the wire from Korea. Once his fingers got typing, he didn't even notice Jenny approach.

"Sho. Hey Sho, Earth calling Sho. Are you a robot?"

He looked up, blinking in surprise at the secretary. "Hmm? What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Guy here to see you."

"To see me?" He didn't have anybody scheduled for that day.

She walked off with a wiggle to her hips. "Says you're old friends. As my mother would say, someone from the old country."

He sighed. Sho didn't have that many friends from the "old country," but he got up anyway. At least he could get a fresh cup of coffee from the lobby. He made his way past the rest of the reporter pool, spotting a man about his height waiting near the reception area. The man was staring out the window at Los Angeles.

"Excuse me?" Sho called. "Can I help you?"

The man turned, and Sho couldn't move. The fellow stepped forward, taking off his hat and bowing. Jenny back at her desk seemed to take this in with some measure of amusement.

Five years. Five long years, and all he'd done was lose himself in work and in study for the citizenship process. Five years vanished in an instant as he met the eyes of Matsumoto Jun once more.

Without a word, he pulled Jun aside and into one of the empty meeting rooms off the secretaries' area. He'd asked Ohno and Aiba in letters again and again, but there'd never been any word. No sense of whether or not Jun could ever or would ever forgive him.

Jun spoke, the first Japanese Sho had heard in a while. "A restaurant hired me."

Sho sputtered, slightly out of practice. "You came across the Pacific to tell me that?"

"A restaurant here, Santa Monica," he said. "So since I have work here, I thought I'd look you up."

The words were nearly the same ones Sho had put in his original letter to Nino so casually five years earlier. I have an assignment in Tokyo, I thought I'd look you up. The world had changed a great deal in five years. Sho was older. Jun was older. He remembered Nino's letter in return, wondering if Jun had watched him write it in the cozy apartment over Bar Ryusei.

Jun's eyes were far different from the last time Sho had seen them. It gave him the courage to speak again.

"And where are you staying in the area, Matsumoto-san?" he asked, feeling a bit of the hope he thought he'd lost for good start to bubble up within him.

"A hotel for now." Jun almost seemed to be hiding a smile. "In Hollywood."

"Oh?

"Very expensive."

Five years, and finally it seemed that Sho was going to get a second chance. Though time and circumstance had aged them both, there was something drawing them to one another. United first by Nino, and now again by coincidence. The memories of Nino would no longer haunt him - together, the two of them could do anything. Together, as he'd told himself five years earlier, they would be okay.

"Expensive, huh?" He saw a spark in Jun's eyes, knowing it to be mirrored in his own. Happiness delayed was better than none at all. He thanked Nino in his heart. He wouldn't waste this chance.

"Then let me tell you about the spare room in my apartment."

END


End file.
